


Clandestine

by ditzymax



Category: K-pop, VIXX, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Ass Play, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Brother/Sister Incest, Character Death, Child Neglect, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, Incest, Infidelity, Love Triangles, Major Character Injury, Major Original Character(s), Mentions of Death, Mentions of Fetus Death (not abortion), Mild Gore, Miscarriage, Murder, Murderers, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV First Person, POV Multiple, Past Child Abuse, Science Fiction, Semi-Public Sex, Sibling Incest, Smoking, Squirting, Twincest, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 79,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditzymax/pseuds/ditzymax
Summary: As a professional assassin, Kim Kinsoo has a lot of shrouded secrets in her life. Some of them she shares openly with her loving boyfriend, but there are other things he must never know…





	1. Sins

**Author's Note:**

> *This series features things that will potentially trigger a lot of people. Please take my warnings on each chapter seriously, remember that it is fiction, and read at your own risk.*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some people who commit far more sins than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings & Features: dream sequence; instances of violence; mentions of fetus death (not abortion); mentions of blood and murder; profanity; smoking; infidelity; EXPLICIT INCEST; graphic sexual content (dirty talk including brief degradation, mentions of cumplay/squirting/thigh-riding, face sitting, cunnilingus and fellatio, unprotected penetrative sex, incestuous sex, semi-public sex, brief moments of noncon); domestic Jungkook

##  **【Kinsoo’s POV】**

_Oh, how the tables have turned. The hunter has become the hunted._

But of course I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. It's karma coming back around to do its duty and balance the universe. I deserve this, there can be no doubt about that. I need to pay for my sins. A hundredfold. I acknowledge that, but I don't accept it. So I run until my veins pump battery acid and my legs turn to jello, then I run some more, but it won't be enough. 

_Goddamn cosmic justice._

The sounds of twigs snapping beneath my cold, bare feet crack like thunder. My pursuer, by comparison, is silent as a phantom, but I know he is close and getting closer. He wants his revenge and nothing will stop him. Even if I was able to escape him tonight and flee clear across to the other side of the earth, he would follow. It would only be a matter of time until he found me. After all, the hunter is nothing without the hunt.

First he killed my lover.

Even while sprinting through this dense forest with much more dire matters to be concerned about (my very life, for instance), my mind wanders to his golden sunshine smile. It was so bright, so full of promise, so wonderful; it really was like a wonder to behold. I will remember it until my dying day - which, coincidentally, may just be tonight. I never expected something so beautiful to lead me and the unborn child inside me to ruin.

The frigid air chews my lips and ears. The smell of rot fills my nostrils. The taste of raw terror stings my tastebuds.

A gnarled root jutting up from the ground trips me and ruins my stride for just a second. It's all the opportunity my attacker needs. He pounces and we both tumble to the ground. The air leaves my lungs in a  _whoosh_  as I land hard on my shoulder. My teeth clamp down on my tongue sharp enough to draw blood. I ignore the pain and scrabble to get away, clawing desperately at the dirt with my fingernails, but it is too frozen for me to gain purchase.

The hunter seizes my flailing wrists and twists me around to pin me down on my back. He keeps my hands locked together above my head with just one of his larger ones. I instinctively try to knee him in the groin, but he is straddling my legs too tightly for me to move them.

The glint of a steel blade rising up in the moonlight catches my eye. He is leaning close enough for me to headbutt him, so I do so with as much force as I can muster. He lets go of my wrists to hold his newly shattered nose, and I instantly make a grab for the weapon. I manage to take it from him - I swear it makes the transition to my hand; I swear I can feel the smooth wooden handle in my fingers - and move to stab his gut.

The knife slices through flesh with a satisfying hiss, but it is me who cries out in pain, not him. The blade twists deeper and deeper until I am certain it will pierce through my spine and impale me into the ground beneath. Then, unexpectedly, it slides up and out just as swiftly as it entered only to return with a vengeance over and over again.

I try to scream, but the sound comes out gargled from the blood bubbling up my throat. I glance down and see a slick wetness covering my stomach, which had only just begun to swell with the life inside it. It takes me a few hazy seconds to realize it is more blood. A lot of it. Way too much. Black and thick and greasy as oil in the starry darkness.

 _No... no... no! Not this!_ Anything _but this. I'd rather be dead. Please,_ please _let me die, too. The three of us can just be one nice, dead, happy family..._

Just as the pain and the grief and the despair are about to pull me down into blissful abyss, I bolt upright into horrid consciousness. I fling the sheets away from my nude body - only vaguely aware that they are damp with my sweat - and run my fingers over my abdomen frantically. I look down to see the scars I am sure are there, but the room is pitch dark. I yank the cord on my bedside table lamp to flood the room with light. Someone groans and stirs beside me. I ignore him and try to concentrate on my stomach through my temporarily blinded eyes. My flat, smooth, perfectly unblemished stomach.

"Babe?" says the naked man beside me. "Babe, what's wrong?" He reaches out to touch my arm but I jerk away swiftly. I am not ready for his soothing touch.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," I mumble as I turn my back to him and plant my feet on the floor. "Go back to sleep, Jungkook."

"Was it another dream?  _The_  Dream?" he continues patiently because he is a better person than I am.

 _The Dream_ , with an official capital  _D_  now. I don't have it as often anymore - maybe just once a month - but it has been exactly the same for over two years now, and somehow I still fall for it every single time because I always wake up in the same fashion. And if my boyfriend is in bed beside me, I always end up waking him, too. I've told him a vague version of my nightmare: that I am being chased by someone who wants to hurt me, but he doesn't know about the rest of it. He doesn't need to.

I nod my head silently in answer to his question and push myself up to stand. I stretch my arms above my head and take a deep breath. I half expect the room to reek like the fetid earth from my nightmare, but there are only the faint aromas of perfume and stale sex.

"Where you goin', beautiful?"

I turn my head over my shoulder to look at him now. Even with sleep-tousled hair and barely-open eyes,  _he_  is clearly the beautiful one here.

"Just to the bathroom for a minute. Seriously, baby. Go back to sleep." I lean over to kiss his forehead, but he tilts his chin up to capture my lips with his instead. I smile faintly and cup his cheek as I kiss him twice more. "I'll be right back," I promise.

"I'll be right here.” He is quick to snatch my fingers as I withdraw them from his face, but he still allows them to slip from his grasp when I step away from the bed slowly. He smiles at me comfortingly, and I appreciate it, I do, but its warmth is not like the sun I used to have.

I give him a weak smile in return and retreat into the adjoined bathroom. I click the door shut behind me and deliberate for a moment on whether or not to lock it as well, but I don't. I splash some water onto my face at the sink and relish the sting of the coldness.

A couple years ago, I would have been curled up in a ball on the rug, shuddering and bawling and moaning in misery. Sometimes I would exhaust myself enough that I would pass out right there and wake up feeling stiff and hollow in the morning. Tonight, I merely dry my face, sigh at my tired expression in the mirror, and turn to leave. Only as I reach for the doorknob do I realize my hand is shaking.

The light is still on when I return to the bedroom, but Jungkook seems to have taken my advice and fallen back asleep. He is facing towards me with his arm still stretched across my side of the bed from where he let it drop.

I crawl back into bed and snuggle up to him, comforting myself in the warmth of his skin. I drape his outstretched arm around my waist and bury my face in the crook of his neck. He hums contentedly and shifts his head to better fit against mine, but immediately goes still again. I snake my hand down between his legs to caress his flaccid penis and get his proper attention. Though I can't see them, I know his pink lips part when he lets out a soft moan.

" _Ohh_. Wha- ah, you wanna go for round two, babe?" he murmurs. His dick awakens a lot easier and quickly begins to swell in my fingers.

"Yes, please. I want you again," I whisper needily.

He has already brought me to two orgasms tonight (once with his sharp tongue and again with his purple cockhead battering my g-spot just right), but I want at least one more. I know he will be able to deliver one way or another. Orgasming is pretty much always a guarantee with him.

I've only had a few, but Jungkook is by far the most selfless lover I've ever had. It always surprises me just how easy it is to get off when I'm with him. There was even an instance when I came just from grinding against his thigh; the memory still makes me blush, and I don't blush easily - except when it comes to him, evidently.

The first time we slept together, I squirted so hard over his fingers I thought I would never be able to uncurl my toes or even look him in the eye again. I apologized about a dozen times for his soaked sheets, muttering almost incoherently about how that had never happened to me before. It was a lie, but I was embarrassed by the sheer extremity of my very first orgasm with him. Jungkook just laughed and held me and confided that it was a first for him, too, and he was honored to have shared that experience with me. Then he proceeded to make me come twice more, and afterwards we spent hours talking and laughing quietly. By morning (early afternoon, technically), I couldn't deny that I was smitten.

Now, seven months later, I am a lot more attached to him than I imagined I would be (or am even comfortable with, for that matter)... but I'm not sure if it’s love.

Presently, Jungkook peeks one of his eyes open and grins sleepily but happily. "How do you want me, sweetheart?"

His kindly receptive attitude despite being woken just to satisfy my selfish desires makes me feel a pang of guilt.

"Lie on your back, baby," I say softly, planning on doing most of the work myself. When he rolls over, I slither down between his knees and take his half-erect member into my mouth in one big gulp.

"Oh  _shit_ ," he groans in equal parts surprise and pleasure. He twists his fingers in my hair but doesn't push.

I lick and suck his cock eagerly in all the ways I know he likes to get him worked up as quickly as possible. The taste is a bit sour from the mixture of our juices that have dried on it from earlier this evening, but I welcome it. It's not like I could stop anyway when the sounds of his soft gasps, breathless encouragements, and high-pitched whines go straight to my core.

Jungkook has always been very vocal during sex, and it is such a huge turn-on to hear how well I am pleasing him. To make him let go of all sense of pride is both incredibly arousing and strangely empowering.

When he is standing at full attention and well-lubricated with my saliva, I climb up to straddle him and sink down onto his thick cock slowly. I toss my head back and take a moment to simply relish the feeling of being so full of him. It is always so satisfying.

"Christ, babe," Jungkook grunts under me. His hips squirm beneath mine to try to get me to move. "You always feel  _so_  fucking good. How are you still this  _tight_? Am I not fucking you right?"

"It's just because your dick is so  _big_ ," I coo back, giving his ego a little stroke but also being honest.

I steady my hands on his broad shoulders and begin rocking my hips against his at a slow and even pace until I feel that I am wet enough to begin sliding up and down. The first time I lift up and drop back down, Jungkook keens loudly. The musical sound inspires me to clench my walls around him even tighter.

"Fucking hell. If you keep squeezing me like that, I might not last long," he pants. His fingers grasp my hips hard enough to leave little oval-shaped bruises, but I don't wince.

"Gonna come already, baby?" I tease. "I wanted to take care of you, but it wasn't exactly my plan to just get  _you_  off again and leave myself high and dry for the rest of the night."

He locks his eyes on mine and smirks. "Don't worry. There's no way I'm gonna miss out on a chance to feel you cream all over my dick. Mmm, but first..."

The way he trails off has me looking down at him curiously. With a strong grip, he pulls me off of his lap and up to his chest in one smooth motion. I squeal at the abruptness of his actions.

"Come and sit on my face, angel," he orders gruffly. He spanks my ass lightly to urge me into motion. I get the message and shuffle higher up the mattress on my knees until they are on either side of his head.

Jungkook grins up at me wolfishly and hooks his arms around my legs to yank me down properly. His nose bumps into my clitoris and I hiccup out a whimper when his tongue pokes out of his mouth and dips inside my hole. He groans as he licks against my insides, and the vibration of it makes me shiver. I hunch forward and brace my palms flat against the wall above the headboard. His hold on my thighs tightens to lock me safely in place. He laps at me eagerly, sloppily.

"Slower, baby," I direct with a gentle hand to his hair. He obeys immediately and focuses his ministrations solely on my sensitive nub. "Ohh yes, that's it."

"Like this?" he pauses to ensure before continuing diligently.

" _Just_  like that. Ah! Oh, God. You're so good with your mouth."

Jungkook hums in appreciation or acknowledgement or agreement and nuzzles his face deeper into my pussy like it's exactly where he wants to be, never mind the risk of suffocation. I can't help but buck against his chin to achieve as much friction and satisfaction as possible. He doesn't seem to mind; he continues eating me as if the sweetest nectar comes from my loins, even though I must surely taste as bitter as his own genitals did.

Just as the stirrings of my orgasm are coming to a head, he suddenly sits up and pushes me down onto my back so I am lying beneath him now. I whine pathetically at the loss of contact on my quivering center.

"I just wanted another taste," Jungkook explains huskily to shush me. "I told you, you're coming on my dick, sweetheart, and I can't go another second without being inside you."

He guides my legs around his trim waist and warns me to hold on tight. Then he takes hold of his cock, lines himself up with my entrance, and penetrates me hard enough to slide my body up the bed a couple inches.

"Fuck!" I gasp. "Do that again, and don't stop."

Jungkook obliges without hesitation. He sits back on his haunches and lifts my hips up off the bed to pound into me even harder and faster. He angles his thrusts right where he knows feels best and I mewl non-stop at the intense pleasure that borders on pain. With every push against my g-spot, I hurtle closer to the finish.

"Is this too much?" he asks at one point but doesn't attempt to slow his pace.

"No, no," I breathe out. "Keep going j-just like that. Ohh, fuck, you feel so good inside me."

"Yeah? You like when I pound your little pussy like this? Huh?" he growls. He readjusts his grip to hold my butt cheeks in his large palms and snaps into me at jackhammer speed. "Look at your titties bouncing. They're practically slapping you in the face right now. And  _God_  you have a great ass." He gives it a two-handed squeeze for emphasis. "Play with your pretty little clit for me while my hands are full, will you, angel?"

I smile and do as he says. It's cute when he is demanding in bed; it leaves me as powerless to resist as if I actually felt dominated. He studies my fingers at work with a glass-eyed, slack-jawed expression. Just like that, his dominant demeanor has evaporated.

"Do you like watching me touch myself?" I purr provocatively.

He gulps and I watch his adam's apple bob beautifully with the motion. "It's s-so hot. Do you touch yourself just like this when I'm nuh-not here?"

I hum in laughter. "Sometimes. But you - mm­m - want to know something, baby?"

It's almost comical the way he nods his head.

I lower my voice and say in a guttural tone, "I always come a hundred times harder when  _you're_  the one making me do it."

Jungkook closes his eyes and groans deeply from the back of his throat. When he licks his lips, it gives me an idea. I collect some of my sticky arousal on the tips of my fingers and bring it to his wet mouth. He lets me slide my fingers inside without resistance, and we both moan as his tongue licks up my most intimate essence. The feel of his hot mouth sucking greedily on my fingers is enough to push me off the edge I was already racing towards. When I arch my back, he circles his arms behind me to hold me even closer to him, and we bounce back down onto the mattress. I pull my hand from his mouth and wrap my arms around his neck as I cry out my satisfaction.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encourages. "Let go. I've got you. I've always got you.  _Shit_ , you're so fucking hot when you come. You're gonna make me come, too. Fuck! I'm so close..."

His hips stutter a little when my core constricts around his member almost too tightly for him to move at all, even though I am positively soaked. When he slams his lips onto mine, I know he is only a few seconds away; he always prefers to be kissing me when his orgasm hits if he can help it.

Sure enough, not two seconds later I feel his dick twitch and jump against my walls as he releases ropes of hot sperm inside me for the second time tonight. He shudders on top of me as little pants and moans spill freely from his mouth into mine. I eat them up with greedy kisses as his orgasm rolls on.

When he comes down from his high, he falls aside and pulls me close to him. I let his sticky limbs entangle mine and lay my head against his chest. My toes brush against one of the pillows at the other end of the bed where our heads should be, but neither of us make a move to readjust our position. We lie content and satiated and sleepy.

"I love you," he whispers with a stroke of my hair, but I am already sleeping dreamlessly.

In the morning, I wake up in the correct direction on the bed with my head on my pillow. I smile and turn over, but Jungkook is not beside me. The sound of the shower running lets me know where he is, however. I slide out of bed and stretch out the knots in my muscles before going to join him.

"Hey beautiful," says Jungkook in his husky morning voice when I step into the large shower stall with him and close the glass door behind me. "Good timing. I just got in here a minute ago."

"'Morning," I answer.

I drink in the sight of his naked body for the thousandth time. His firm thighs, his tight butt, his sculpted abs, his solid pectorals, his rippling arms. The way his masculine body contrasts with his sweet baby face and big doe eyes was what first drew me to him. He had this innocent aura about him that was as alluring as his sexy physique. It still is, in fact.

He catches me staring and says, "Still like what you see, sweetheart?"

A  _maybe_  and a smirk is all I give him.

“Well, I certainly like what  _I_  see.” His eyes rake over my body none-too-subtly.  _God, his libido is incredible._

"No sexy time," I say firmly. I slap a hand between the planes of his wet chest to keep him at bay. "I'm just saving time by showering with you this morning. I can't be late to work today."

"No sexy time," he agrees with a crooked smile. "Just help."

He reaches over and grabs my shampoo bottle, then holds it up to me with an innocent expression on his face like it is some sort of peace offering.

"Fine," I concede. He pulls me into the spray of the showerhead to wet my hair.

"You've got that new recruit coming in today, right?" he asks while his fingers work at massaging shampoo into my scalp with painstaking care. The steamy air becomes saturated with the smell of coconut.

I hum in affirmation. "From what Namjoon has told me, he sounds very promising."

"Excellent. I know it's hard to get someone new. I hope he works out."

"Me too."

We finish our shower with only a few stray gropes, pinches, and giggles. Jungkook dries himself off with two shakes of his towel over his golden brown hair and a few lazy swipes over his lean muscular body, then he pecks my temple and leaves me to finish getting ready in peace.

I finish my morning facial skincare routine, blow dry and straighten my silvery-purple hair, stretch out my eyelashes with a bit of mascara, brush my teeth with the whitening powder that I am not totally convinced is actually working, apply two coats of red lipstick, and spritz on some perfume. Then I step into the bedroom and dress myself in a tight-fitting maroon-colored dress with long sleeves and a short hemline. As I am fussing over which pair of shoes to wear, I hear my boyfriend call out from downstairs.

"Breakfast, babe!"

I had planned on only having caffeine and nicotine for breakfast, but something tells me that whatever Jungkook has prepared is a bit more substantial. He really is too good to me. Too good _for_ me.

I hasten my decision and end up sliding on a pair of black velvet boots that reach just above my kneecaps. I also take a minute to slip on some jewelry: a few golden rings over my fingers, a pair of golden hoop earrings, a golden bangle on each wrist. I switch out the gold hoop in my left nostril for a small diamond stud (inset in gold, of course).

My fingers hesitate when I come to the only non-gold piece in my jewelry box: a silver necklace with a small, curvy letter  _T_  dangling from it. I run my shiny, black lacquered, oval fingernails over the delicate chain with a fond smile. There was a time when I never took it off, but it has been years now since I've worn it. I leave it where it is and turn to snatch up my cell phone and pack of cigarettes from my bedside table. I light one and suck from it deeply as I make my way downstairs.

"Wow, you made french toast?" I observe aloud as I enter the kitchen.

Jungkook is hovering over a pan on the stove. The sleeves of his black fleece sweater are pushed up to his elbows, and he also has on the same pair of gray sweatpants from last night when he came over straight from work.

Not for the first time, I wonder if I should tell him to start keeping some clothes here permanently since he has been spending the night more often, but that would be a big step for us - for me - and I'm still on the fence about whether or not to take it.

Without turning around, Jungkook answers, "I'm trying to, at least. I did a much better job at scraping the ice off your windshield and turning on the heat in your car. You have a perfectly good garage; next time you should park it in  _there_ , silly."

I blink a few times in stunned silence and don't even register his playful little jab. When I find my voice again, it sounds embarrassingly tiny. "You did that for me?"

"Well, yeah. Of course. It wasn't any trouble. It's  _freezing_  outside." He twists his neck to look back at me for the first time since I entered the room. "Whoa, you look  _really_  nice, babe," he declares as he takes in my outfit. He sets down the spatula in his hand and turns around to give me his full attention. His eyes make another top-to-bottom scan before leveling with mine.

"You are so beautiful, Kim Kinsoo."

Something about him in that moment makes me want to say it for the first time. Maybe it's his considerate and selfless nature coming out in full swing this morning. Or the view of his two front teeth that are slightly larger than the others so that he reminds me of an adorable bunny when he smiles. Or the way his still-damp bangs are falling into his chocolate eyes so sexily. Or the sound of my name rolling over his tongue. Or the fact that he looks at me as if I'm brand new. Or probably just a cumulation of all of it.

I almost tell him I love him, but I am not sure if it's true.

Before I can even choke out a meager  _thank you_ , my cell phone rings, and to be honest, I am a little grateful for the interruption. I swipe my thumb across the screen and place it up to my ear.

"Good morning, Namjoon," I greet after another drag of smoke.

"Not so good, Headmistress," my assistant replies promptly. "I'm sorry to bother you at home, but we have a problem. I thought you might want to know before you arrived."

My heart nearly stops and my knees almost buckle when my mind immediately assumes the worst, but I force myself to remain calm in Jungkook's presence.

"Is it about last night's mission?" I whisper hoarsely.

"It is. Agent V is fine, but evidently he made a conscious decision not to eliminate the target."

At first I am flooded with relief, but then irritation sinks in. "God damn it all. Can we salvage this?"

"Of course, Miss. But I advise that we work quickly while the window of opportunity is still open."

"Yes, do so at once. Get, uh... shit. Get D.O. on it and have him make it a priority. His other assignment can wait. Are you at the office? Is Agent V there?"

"Will do, I am, and yes, he is. Shall I have him wait for you in your office for debriefing?"

"Please. I'll be there shortly."

"See you soon, Miss."

I hang up and toss my phone down a bit carelessly. Ash from my nearly spent cigarette scatters along the counter after it. I go ahead and crush it out with an annoyed grunt.

"Problem?" asks Jungkook lightly, but I still hear the concern.

"It's fine. It  _will_  be fine," I assure him. "But I have to go. I'm sorry."

"Take some toast with you," he urges. He scoops up two pieces with a pair of tongs and slips them into a double-layered paper towel for me. Then he points across the counter. "Your to-go mug is over there. There's fresh coffee in it."

"Jeon Jungkook, you really  _are_  perfect," I sigh more to myself than to him, but of course he hears anyway.

"Hardly." He smirks and wraps his strong arms around my waist to pull me close. "Have a good day, sweetheart. Kill lots of bad guys. And  _be careful_."

 

* * *

 

The moment I step out of my house, I leave my cute, charming, domesticated life behind to enter a world that is quite dangerous and not exactly legal. My life at home and my life at work are as contradictory as Jungkook's face and thighs.

My sweet young boyfriend may have said it airily, but I really do  _kill bad guys_  for a living.

Actually, I don’t do much of the killing myself these days, but the team of professional assassins whom I train and employ do. I have built my entire career on the business of murder under the justification that I am making the world a cleaner place, and I have gained immense wealth in the process; people will pay vast sums of money to have their abusive spouses, pederastic pastors, and morally corrupt politicians killed.

But, as always, I wanted more.

It took four years, but I managed to get the exact right Feds to take notice of my impeccable work. I knew that government backing (even if that backing was provided from under the table) could open new opportunities, further pad my bank account, and make me practically untouchable. And I was right.

For three years now, my building headquarters has officially born the seal of the  _Federal Department of Defense and Safety_  along with signs deterring any unauthorized personnel from the government-sanctioned grounds. Only a handful of men and women with positions of real power in the government know the truth of what transpires in my office, and all of the underlings are simply told it's a place of  _"classified military business shared only on a need-to-know basis."_

I am permitted to operate under such protection with the agreement that I assist in eliminating large scale targets as well. The government's “Most Wanted” list is certainly a few terrorists and serial killers shorter than it was a few years ago. My agents are so effective that the Feds in league with us are willing to look the other way on our small-time hits (the abusive spouses, pederastic pastors, morally corrupt politicians, etc.). If ever the  _wrong_  people come sniffing around, there is always an inside-man of mine to steer the trail safely away. But we're rarely sloppy enough to give anyone a reason to suspect us.

And we certainly never back out of a hit once we've been paid.

I manage to shave four minutes off my normal commute time. I flash my ID badge to the guard at the gate and she lets me through with a nod. I drive by and swing my sleek black sedan into my reserved spot in the parking lot. The heels of my boots clack on the pavement as I stride to the entrance and throw the last bite of french toast into my mouth. I suck the remnants from my fingers with little wet pops as my other hand reaches out to swipe my security badge through the slot beside the outer door. The guard standing a few feet away barely glances at me. When I step inside, I nod at yet a third guard and she returns it respectfully.

When I turn the corner, my assistant is right there to meet me. Like myself, Namjoon is no longer on active duty carrying out assignments, so I have stopped addressing him by his codename of RM. I have tried on many occasions to get him to call me Kinsoo in return, but he always tells me it wouldn't feel appropriate.

"Headmistress," he says by way of greeting.

His black suit looks impeccably neat and ironed. His peachy-blonde hair is teased up and parted to the left, as usual. His gray-blue eyes are clear and sharp. When he purses his lips in a pseudo-smile, a deep dimple punctures his left cheek. In another life, he would be breaking hearts all up and down the coast, but in this life, he only has eyes for his work. He is so stiff and austere all the time.

"Namjoon." I skip the small talk and ask, "Is Agent V in my office?"

"Yes, Miss. Unless he escaped out the fifth story window."

I let out a humorless laugh. "Yes, well, we both know he's certainly capable of doing that."

"Of course," agrees Namjoon with a slight nod of his head.

"Has D.O. been dispatched to complete the assignment?"

Another nod. "He has. I would estimate that he will be finished by mid-to-late afternoon."

"Wonderful. And when is the new recruit expected to arrive?"

"Ten o'clock." He shakes back his jacket sleeve to consult the Rolex on his wrist. "In about half an hour, Miss."

"Okay. Well, you know where I'll be, then. No disturbances until he arrives, please."

"Understood, Miss."

I leave him behind and head towards the elevator to ascend to the top floor. When I reach it, I turn right and walk down to the end of the hall where my office is. I grimace in annoyance when I find the door closed. I push it open with a sigh.

Agent V's tall, lanky frame is standing by one wall of the floor-length windows, gazing out at the barren field below. His loose white dress shirt is tucked into a pair of tight black leather pants. The red Timberland boots on his feet look new and expensive. His hands are stuffed in his pockets. He doesn't seem to have a care in the world.

"Took you a while," he drawls in his deep satin voice. "Your boy toy keep you up late last night?"

I shut the door behind me and fold my arms against my chest. "Wouldn't  _you_  like to know? Pervert."

He snickers and turns around to face me. His shaggy, ash-gray bangs fall in front of his green, cat-like eyes. He tosses his hair aside with a flick of his head and unintentionally flaunts his sharp jawline in the process. His milk-and-honey skin tone is as clear and flawless as ever. There are two silver hoops pierced through his right earlobe. An ironic silver cross about two inches long dangles from his left earlobe between two silver studs.

He always did prefer silver over gold, except for one piece of jewelry in particular to stand out from the rest: a small, golden letter  _K_  on a skinny golden chain that hangs to his mid-chest. It glints as it catches the scant winter sunlight streaming in through the windows. He has worn it every day for the past ten years. When people ask him about it, he tells them it stands for his surname, but we both know it is actually meant to stand for my name.

It may be considered narcissistic of me to think this way considering he is my identical twin brother, but Kim Taehyung is still the most gorgeous man I have ever known.

"It's good to see you, Kinsoo," he says quietly, and I can tell he means it. It  _has_  been a couple weeks since we have seen each other.

To be honest, I am glad to see him, too. Especially after the small fright I had earlier when Namjoon called. Although he is a highly skilled and prolific assassin, I always get anxious whenever Taehyung goes out on missions. I barely survived the loss of my fiancé and the fetus I was carrying. I only pulled through because of my brother. If I lost him, too... If I lost the  _actual_  love of my life... I don't think I could go on.

I push down my sentimental feelings and give him a steely glare.

"Are you sure about that, Tae? I'm quite pissed at you for not following through with the mission last night. You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?"

He sighs deeply and pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He brings one to his lips and lights it before going to sit in one of the chairs in front of my desk.

When a moment passes and he doesn't say anything, I realize he is waiting for me to take my place opposite him. I set down my purse and thermos of homemade coffee, then take off my coat to drape it across the back of my chair.

Once I am seated and settled, Taehyung licks his lips and begins.

"I fully  _intended_  to take out the target. I was in position, she was in my sights. But something else caught my eye. I don't even know why. It... it was a sonogram photo hanging on the refrigerator.” The cigarette in his fingers begins shaking a little, as does his voice. “A goddamn  _sonogram_. I couldn't pull the trigger after that."

My heart clenches but I don't let my face show it.  _We've been paid to kill her_ , I remind myself.  _The fact that this dangerous junkie whore is knocked up makes no difference_.

"When did you go and get a conscience on me?" I quip rather heartlessly.

Taehyung scoffs in disbelief and extinguishes the other half of his cigarette in the ash tray on my desk. "Jesus, Kinsoo. I knew you were a stone cold bitch, but how can you be so cavalier about this after what happened to you and Hoseok?"

I bristle and flinch at the same time. "You  _dare_  say his name after all this time," I hiss in a dangerous tone. "You don't have the-"

"I  _know_  you still remember, Kiki," he plows on over top of me loudly. "That night two years ago when you were curled up in my lap in the hospital staircase, crying hysterically, and all I could do was cradle and rock you back and forth. I'd never seen you so small, physically  _or_  emotionally. My big sister, who was always the strongest person I knew, whom I have always looked up to, was reduced to something so tiny, all because she thought she loved another man."

"Of  _course_  I loved him, you idiot!" I nearly shriek, and the part of my subconscious I typically ignore wonders whether I am trying to convince Taehyung or myself. Though we are alone on this floor, I lower my voice and add through gritted teeth: "He was lethal and stunning and  _mine_. He was  _everything_  to me."

Taehyung is up from his seat and around the desk in a flash. He seizes the arms of my chair and spins me around to face him, then leans in closely.

"He. Wasn't.  _Me_ ," he snarls, making sure to emphasize each word. He gentles his tone when he continues, "I'm sorry it ended the way it did - believe me, I am - but it  _did_  have to end. It was never going to work, sis. And that  _pet_  you have now.  _Jungkook_." He spits the name out like a bad taste. "He's just a fucking puppy you keep around because you want companionship." A dismissive wave of his hand in front of my face. "Fine. Whatever. Keep him as long as you like. I know you're fond of him. But it's not going to work out any better than you and Hoseok. Might as well get an actual dog."

"And why the fuck  _wouldn't_ it work?" I challenge, tilting my chin up defiantly. Our noses are almost touching. It's like looking into a mirror. "Jungkook is kind and sexy and hardworking. He takes care of me, despite our age difference. He even knows what I do for a living. Surely that counts for something. Maybe I'm really in love with him."

That last statement may not be as much of a lie as I think it is, but I push the dangerous thought to that neglected part of my subconscious.

"You are so funny," laughs Taehyung. His delicious breath tickles my face. It smells of chocolate and menthol. "You've got it in your pretty little head that you need to be in a 'normal' relationship. For years I've been watching you try so hard to have one, but I don't get jealous about it. I wasn't jealous of Hoseok, you know. And I'm not jealous of Jungkook now. If anything, I'm  _amused_. Because like I said, it'll never work out. In this whole big, wide, ugly world, you and I were only ever meant to be with  _each other_ , sweet sister. Only with each other. It's written in our DNA. Why do you insist on fighting it when even the universe knows it? That's why Hoseok and the kid he squirted inside you were taken from you. You know it's true."

I am livid. Never mind the fact that what Taehyung is saying is precisely what I have been wondering ever since that harrowing night two years ago he just mentioned. The sheer audacity of him to say something so cruel out loud and directly to my face astounds me.

I can incapacitate men twice my size in less than two seconds flat, but all of my training flees in the wake of my red hot rage. I swing my open palm at him and he catches my wrist almost lazily, clearly unimpressed by my predictable move. I try again with the other but he catches it, too, and pins both my arms back down on the armrests of my chair. I try to kick him in the balls but he twists one of his legs up to block me.

"You know it's true," he repeats calmly and quietly.

The eyes that are carbon copies of my own work to hypnotize me into submission. That has always been Taehyung's signature tactic: to lure his prey in with his beauty, specifically those bottomless emerald orbs. He loves to make his targets (both male and female) want to follow him anywhere, do anything for him, make them think they can't possibly live without him, before striking when they least expect it.

And sure enough, his strike comes in the form of him slanting his lips over mine and kissing me fiercely. Hungrily. Possessively. I resist, but only half-heartedly, and only for a few seconds before I give in and sigh quietly against his mouth. He grunts back in victorious satisfaction and slips his tongue past my teeth. It slides against mine like a magnet.

He releases his hold on my wrists and moves his big hands to my waist to lift me up on top of the desk. Then he kicks my chair out of the way and knocks my knees apart to stand between them. My dress rides up my thighs as he grabs my ass and pulls me right to the edge. His lips skim down my jawline to my neck, nibbling and sucking on my skin, but not hard enough to bruise. His fingers try to dance their way under my dress, but I slap his hand away.

"Taehyung," I pant. "I'm mad at you. I shouldn't be fucking you right now."

He laughs again. "Of all the reasons you shouldn't be fucking me,  _that's_  what you're going with? You're adorable."

"Tae, I'm serious. We shouldn't be doing this now. Or here." I try to sound forceful, but my body is turning traitor under his electrifying touch, and I know he can tell. He knows my body too well. He knows _me_  too well.

"You can't just come in here - looking like sex on legs - smelling like sin - and expect me not to fuck you." He punctuates every few words with hot, open-mouthed kisses to my throat, and this time he succeeds in slipping his slender fingers under the skirt of my dress. He drags them along my slit through my underwear and I can feel the material stick to my burning skin. He  _tsks_  quietly at the discovery. "And you're already starting to soak through your panties, Kiki. I'd say you want this just as much as I do."

He hooks his fingers inside my underwear and pinches my bare clit sharply. I let out a soft moan at the pleasurable pain, and with it goes all of my reservations.

"Hurry, Tae. We don't have much time."

With my permission, he springs right into action. He yanks my thong down past my knees and lets it drop carelessly to the floor. As he bunches my dress higher around my hips, I work at unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly so I can pull his growing erection out from its tight confines. After just a few pumps of my wrist, he is hard as stone beneath the velvet skin that is a shade darker than the rest of his body.

Taehyung steps back so I can slide off the desk and turn around. Then he gently bends me over the wooden surface to better expose my center. He takes a moment to run his hands along the flesh of my bare ass reverently before he moves one of them downwards to cup my sex. I am positive he can feel the heat radiating from me like a pulse. He eases a finger into my pussy and curls it, causing me to whimper and squirm. He adds a second finger and scissors them inside me to prepare me for his dick. When his thumb stretches down to rub against my clit, I am surprised by how slippery it is already.

"Oh yes, you definitely want this as much as I do," mentions Taehyung in a cocky tone.

To further validate his point, I shamelessly push back against his hand repeatedly to fuck myself on his fingers. Taehyung groans lowly at the display and slaps my ass lightly in encouragement. He increases the stretch in my walls by fitting a third finger.

"Look at you, acting so fucking needy," he rasps. "I can smell your sweet cunt from here."

"Your fingers feel so good, Tae," I grant with a moan. "But I'm ready for your cock now. Get inside me. Hurry."

"You got it, kitten."

My walls automatically twitch at the use of his sexy pet name for me. He withdraws his hand from me and I hear him spit into it. I don't turn around, but I can picture him rubbing the combination of my arousal and his saliva over the head of his cock before he glides it up and down the swollen lips of my vagina to moisten me even more. On one upstroke, he catches on my opening and dips in shallowly, and our breaths hitch in unison.

After another long second of anticipation, he plunges straight in to the hilt. I bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning out too loudly at the delightful friction.

"Oh my fucking  _God_ , Kinsoo," whispers Taehyung. He digs his fingers into my hips, right where the flesh is already sore from Jungkook's tight grip last night. "I swear, every time I slide inside you, it feels like coming home. We were made for each other."

"I know, Tae. I know," I whine. I reach up and hold on to the edge of my desk to steady myself as he begins rocking into me. "I feel it, too."

Taehyung hums and I can hear the smirk in it. He wraps a hand around my throat and pulls me up into his frame. His hold is tight, but not strong enough to do any actual damage.

"Of course you do, and that's exactly why that guy will never satisfy you," he whispers into my ear, and I know he is referring to Jungkook. "He might make you laugh. He might make you come. He might make you feel ‘safe’ and ‘normal.’ But none of that matters because he's not me."

"Fuck you," I spit without any real venom this time. The truth in his words nearly brings me to tears because I know now that the same could be said about Hoseok, but I was happy lying to myself.

"I love you," counters Taehyung in a surprisingly sweet tone.

He drops his fingers from my neck and brings them around to rub rapid circles into the sensitive bud between my legs with an expert touch that comes from years of practice. He chants the words over and over until I shudder and release around his cock in nearly record time.

"Yes, Kiki, that's it. That's my good girl," he praises. His hips pick up speed to signal he is close to his end as well. His balls continuously slap against my engorged clit  _oh so perfectly_ , nearly driving me mad, but I manage to keep my wits about me.

"Tae, wait. Wait!" I hiss hurriedly. "Don't come inside me."

"Why not?" he grits out. He changes to slow but hard, deep strokes to hold back his pending climax. He is as aware as I am that pregnancy is not a concern, but there are other worries on my mind.

"I -  _ah, fuck_  - I just don't want to deal with the luh-leakage t-today," I struggle to explain between blows of overstimulation. "Let me -  _hngh_  - let me s-swallow it instead."

Taehyung lets out a breath of laughter. "What, you mean you  _don't_ want to meet the new guy with a pussy full of cum? Your  _brother's_  cum? I should do it, you know. I should fill you up to the brink and make you walk around all day with my cum inside you, then make you go home to your pet so he can find it later and finally know just how much of a dirty whore you really are."

His filthy words turn me on more than I care to admit. I imagine the look on Jungkook's pretty face if he were to ever discover someone else's semen inside me, and it legitimately makes me want to cry, but at the same time it almost throws me into a second climax. I quickly shake the image and clear my head.

"Tae, you fuckin' asshole," I grunt in irritation. " _Don't_. Please."

Taehyung's pumping comes to an abrupt stop with his dick lodged inside me as deep as it can go, as tight as it can fit, and I assume he is making good on his threat, but the warmth of his seed doesn't come. Then he chuckles and pulls out with an audible wet squelch. The lewd sound of his fist running over his slick cock fills the room next.

"Better hurry and get on your knees, then. I'm close."

I spin around and drop down to the floor like he says. I waste no time in gripping the base of his long, girthy manhood in my own hand and wrapping my lips around the tip. He lets go of himself and cups his hands around my head affectionately as I bob it up and down his length.

After several shallow strokes, I force his dick down as far as I can and swallow around it. Taehyung gasps and curses above me at the delicious feeling. It's not long after that he grunts and ejaculates straight into my throat. It's thick and copious but I manage to get it down.

"Shit, that's good. So damn good," he groans deeply. I can feel him practically vibrating with the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. "C'mere, Kiki. Come here."

Taehyung helps me off my knees and onto my feet and kisses me again, tenderly this time. Our lips and tongues move languidly over each other's. Lovingly.

"I love you, too," I tell him when we break apart.

He rests his forehead against mine and his mouth stretches into a wide, rectangular smile. I scrunch my nose when his hair tickles it, and he laughs. The sound is genuine and warm and even a little childish. It envelops me like the softest, most comforting security blanket.

I lay my cheek against his shoulder and curl my arms around him in a futile attempt to return the feeling. He rests his chin on top of my head as he embraces me tightly.

The big, wide, ugly world shrinks to the size of the space occupied by just the two of us. For the moment, nothing and no one else matters.

 

* * *

 

 Copyright © 2017-2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


	2. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Kinsoo and Taehyung’s dark past is revealed. Jungkook recalls when he and Kinsoo first met. Taehyung reminds Kinsoo who the main man in her life is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings & Features: profanity; smoking; slight/brief mentions of sci-fi elements; mentions of death; mentions of violent murder and blood; allusions to pregnancy and fetus death (not abortion); mentions of domestic abuse; brief mentions of relations with a minor; infidelity; EXPLICIT INCEST; graphic rough sex (incestuous sex, D/S themes, dom!Taehyung, unprotected penetrative sex, anal sex, deep-throating, spanking, dirty talk including use of degrading names and derogatory/abusive language and behavior); extra soft Jungkook

##  **【Kinsoo’s POV】**

_I am a terrible human being._

I can admit that because it's the truth. I have sinned a lot more than most. Theft, infidelity, forgery, murder... and who can forget the cherry on top:  _incest_.

But it wasn't like I  _planned_  to fall in love with my twin brother. It's not something you  _can_  plan - it just happens. You can't choose who you love. Maybe it really is written in our DNA.

I was born almost an even twenty-nine years ago, and a little over five minutes later came Taehyung. Suffice to say, our childhood was not a happy one, considering what we do and where we are now. It doesn't take a therapist to decipher that.

Our father was a grade-A asshole. An abusive alcoholic. About as cliché as they come. And our mother wasn't held in any higher esteem. She was a snivelling doormat who barely even acknowledged our existence after squeezing us out of her vagina. But, in fairness, most of her energy was spent either busting her ass at work or cowering from our father. Perhaps we should have been more sympathetic towards her, but we weren't. Instead, Tae and I would just get angry at her with every new bruise we saw bloom on her arms or stomach or legs (always a place that could be covered, of course). I often wondered if Tae and I were simply born without the gene of compassion entirely - at least when it came to people who weren't us.

Underneath all our bickering and chiding, my brother and I have always been fiercely defensive and abundantly supportive of each other. Our classmates in grade school would make fun of Taehyung if I stood up to a bully for him  _("Your sister has more balls than_ you _do, Kim!")_ , and vice versa  _("Aww, look! Kinsoo got her little brother to fight for her 'cause she's too much of a sissy!")_. But sometimes they couldn't even tell the two of us apart since we looked so much alike. Our teachers and even our lousy parents often had the same problem. It didn't help that from about ages four to eleven Tae always wore his hair a little longer than the average boy, and I always wore mine a bit shorter than the average girl. But eventually Tae grew taller than me, and that put an end to everyone's struggle - at least when we were standing side-by-side.

From an early age (and even more so as we got older), it was obvious that my twin and I were uncommonly good-looking. It is the best gift our parents ever bestowed upon us, albeit unintentionally. All throughout high school, our beauty was probably the only thing deterring our peers from teasing us to our faces about our "oddly close" relationship, but we still heard them whispering behind our backs. People were eager to befriend and get to know us, but they also felt compelled to fabricate rumors. We were popular, but we still felt like pariahs.

Even so, we always preferred to be at school, or at the movies, or at the obnoxiously hormonal teenage parties we'd constantly get invited to, or anywhere but our house, really. Every time we went out, we returned home with new trinkets stolen from wherever we had been. We got very adept at slipping things into our pockets unnoticed. Silverware from restaurants, cosmetics from friends' bathrooms, food and alcohol from convenience stores, cash and jewelry straight from a stranger's person. We even stole frivolous things like pens and stationary from our teachers, just because we could.

When we were of driving age, we sought out abandoned buildings in a sketchy part of town in which to get high or inebriated, and then we would graffiti the nearby bridges and landmarks. A therapist would probably say that this sort of reckless behavior stemmed from a  _deep-seated need for attention that wasn't being adequately fulfilled by our parents_... or some bullshit like that. Personally, I think we just enjoyed it; they were just hobbies to us.

If we were forced to spend an extended amount of time at home, Taehyung and I would always be holed up in one or the other's room, playing games and listening to music and talking about anything and everything. Our favorite thing to do was fantasize about being somewhere else. Anywhere else. An entirely different planet, perhaps, where parents and laws and standards didn't exist. It would be just the two of us. But the sounds of our father bellowing at our mother and the ringing slaps that ensued would always sober us back to harsh reality.

It was two months before we turned sixteen when Tae decided he had had enough of our "situation" at home. He acted in the most extreme way possible: he killed our asshole father. Killed him dead with a broken beer bottle.

I can still clearly visualize the way the blood spurted like a violent red geyser when he dragged the shattered glass across our father's throat, then drove it into his stomach over and over and over. He continued even after our father was already lying motionless on the cold basement floor. I eventually managed to pull Tae away. He clutched me like I was a lifeline and I cradled his head against my chest as we both cried. I don't know how long we sat that way; it could have been five minutes or ninety. When we stood, we were both covered in blood, and Tae was quivering all over.

I helped him upstairs to get cleaned up, but before we got to the bathroom, he took my face into his bloody hands. I looked into his eyes and saw something solid behind them, something like clarity and determination. I vaguely registered the fact he was no longer shaking. It would seem that that was the first time he used his now trademark tactic, but it wasn't necessary. Not with me. When he leaned in and kissed me in a very non-brotherly way, I wasn't repulsed in the least. The thought didn't even occur to me to stop him. It felt expected and long-awaited. It felt right.

We took a detour into my bedroom and ended up making love for the first time. It was passionate and intimate and intense. When Taehyung pushed inside me that first time, I braced myself for the pain that I knew should come with my hymen being torn, but instead it was pure ecstasy. It was all the satisfaction of finally fitting two puzzle pieces together amplified by a million. It really seemed we were made for each other. Afterwards, as I was smeared with all manner of bodily fluids (the most sinful of which being my brother's semen leaking from my newly de-flowered pussy), I felt so  _liberated_. None of my sexual experiences since have ever been as erotic as that moment.

By the time our mother came home from work, Tae and I had cleared out our father's body and removed all evidence of what had happened in both the basement and in my room. It was surprisingly easy; it was like we had a natural instinct about what needed to be done. When she asked about him (more out of obligation than concern, no doubt), we told our mother we didn't know where our father could possibly be. Days went by and she didn't even bother to report him missing. We let her assume that he had walked out on us, and our lives were all the better for it. Our only living grandparent - our mother's mother - came to live with us to help with the bills. She wasn't the least bit surprised that our deadbeat father had exited the picture.

Then our mother died of an unexpected brain aneurysm not long after Tae and I turned seventeen, and our grandmother became our only guardian. She was very good to us. She was attentive and thoughtful and caring without ever nagging us or laying down any silly restrictions that most other teenagers our age had. She seemed to really understand us. I have the feeling she may have even known the full extent of mine and Taehyung's relationship, though she never mentioned it once.

The three of us grew quite close until her death a year and a half after our mother. It was extremely sudden, and it hit Tae and I pretty hard, but we weren't overwhelmingly distraught. Death had become our constant companion.

By then, Tae and I were actively honing our talents for killing and not getting caught. It was like our hobbies of petty theft and small-time vandalism got upgraded straight to murder.

Instead of going to university and getting an official degree in something like computer science or business management, we educated ourselves on things such as guises, weaponry, and martial arts with the help of the small fortune our loving grandmother had left us.

We made certain to only apply our skills to the wicked: rapists, pedophiles, drug lords, murderers (and yes, we did see the irony in that). We'd make it look like an accident had occurred, or that our victim had committed suicide, or simply vanished without a trace.

Then we realized: why do something you're good at for free? Although Taehyung had been the first to whet his appetite for murder, it was me who took charge and built up the empire we sit upon now. By the time we were twenty-one, we already had four other operatives working under us to carry out missions executing the cruel and the corrupted.

Tae was by my side through it all. My last living family member. My literal partner-in-crime. My absolute best friend.

And of course, my lover.

But we never did make that side of our relationship public knowledge. Siblings being together in every way imaginable just doesn't fit inside society's nice, neat, narrow box of rules and regulations. We often entertained the idea of coming out anyway, of just saying,  _"Yes, we're in love. We're fucking_ soulmates _, so everyone just fuck off and deal with it."_  It was nothing personal, but we thought of everyone who wasn't us as beneath us, anyway. But we knew we couldn't risk losing everything we had worked for. For reasons Taehyung and I will never fully comprehend, incest is one of the most condemned atrocities of all, so we've resigned ourselves to adding it to the list of things to remain covert about.

So when my desk phone rings while Tae and I are holding each other with my dress hiked above my ass and his dick still jutting out of his pants, my heart forgets a beat or two. It doesn't seem to worry my brother, though. He just winks at me and picks it up.

"Headmistress Kim's office," he answers in a poor imitation of my voice. I can't help but smile at his playful attitude and push his shoulder in mock indignation. "Ah, RM. Yes, she's right here." Tae grins and holds the phone out to me. "It's for you, Headmistress."

I stick my tongue out at him childishly and take it. "Yes, Namjoon?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your meeting, Miss, but the new recruit has just arrived."

While Namjoon is speaking, Tae tucks his deflated penis back into his pants, readjusts his belt and zipper, then retrieves my underwear from the floor and gestures for me to lift my feet so he can slip them back up my legs. I steady myself with a hand on his shoulder as he does.

"Oh, excellent. You can, uh, go ahead and show him up to my office, please. V and I are almost finished here."

"Of course, Miss."

I hang up and hurry to help Tae finish sliding my panties back into place. It's almost chivalrous the way he then helps straighten my dress. He rests his hands on my hips and gives them a squeeze. I can tell he wants me to meet his gaze, so I do. His eyes are soft and apologetic.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you, Kiki," he murmurs. "I know Hoseok meant a lot to you. I just lost my temper for a second. And I meant it when I said to keep your pet-" I shoot him a sharp look and he quickly corrects himself. "Sorry. Keep  _Jungkook_  as long as you like. It doesn't bother me. Really."

"Thank you, Tae," I whisper. I run my fingers through his hair affectionately. "You are the only man I truly love. Always."

"I know." He offers me a warm smile to further confirm he believes me. "And you're the only woman for me. Forever."

He kisses my forehead, cheeks, and chin tenderly.

I want to tell him for the hundredth time that he should just get himself a girlfriend already, but I keep my mouth shut because I already know what his answer will be. He always claims to thoroughly enjoy playing the role of the bachelor; he says it makes his work of seducing his targets a lot easier. I suppose it makes a certain kind of sense, but I always feel guilty and weak for not being able to stay as faithful to him as he is to me. Then I think of the wrinkles in the corners of Jungkook's eyes when he smiles, and I tell myself that I deserve that little bit of sweetness in my life after all the shit I've endured. At least until Jungkook wises up and realizes I am actually the worst cunt he has ever met and not the perfect angel he seems to think I am.

I swallow hard and say to Taehyung, "And just so you know, I understand why you couldn't follow through with the mission last night. If I'd known, I wouldn't have sent you. I know how much... how much my baby meant to you, especially since it could have been-"

"Shh shh," he soothes. He moves his hands to cup both my cheeks and rubs his thumbs under my eyes very gently. "I've told you, it's best to assume it wasn't mine, otherwise we'll drive ourselves crazy, sweet sister. Yeah?"

I sigh and nod in agreement. "Yeah." And after a pause: "I love you."

"I love you," he echoes, then leans in and kisses me softly until someone knocks on the door. He releases my lips and I wipe away a small smudge of my lipstick from the corner of his mouth. He kisses my fingertips with a grin, then takes a few steps back to face the windows again.

I call out for the visitor to enter, and the door immediately swings open. Namjoon walks through with someone close behind him. He spares Taehyung's back a quick glance before meeting my eyes.

"The new recruit, Headmistress," he announces.

The stranger steps out from behind Namjoon and approaches me at my desk with a confident stride. He is a few inches shorter than both Namjoon and Taehyung, and with my heels on, we are the same height. He is dressed entirely in black from head to toe: long black trench coat, thick black turtleneck, tight black jeans, shiny black shoes. Though I have never seen him before this moment, it is difficult to envision him in any other color.

His jet black hair is a bit tousled. The apples of his cheeks are pink - probably from the cold - but otherwise his skin is pale as milk. His beautiful and delicate features remind me of a porcelain doll: round face, cute nose, small mouth.

He looks rather...  _pure_.

Only his eyes give away his virulent nature. Behind his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes are two ice chips rolled in soot: dark and cold and piercing.

When he extends a hand out to me, I notice several raised pink scars juxtaposed with bulging blue veins along the back of it.

"Min Yoongi," he says. I grasp his hand and shake it. His skin is cold against mine. "Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Yoongi. I'm Kim Kinsoo, the Headmistress here. It would seem you've already met my assistant, Kim Namjoon. No relation, by the way. You can call him RM." I let go of his hand and gesture behind me towards my brother. "This is my most senior operative: Agent V."

Taehyung turns at the mention of his codename and moves to stand toe-to-toe with Yoongi.

"Kim Taehyung," he introduces as the two of them shake hands.

Yoongi glances between my twin brother and I a few times before declaring, "Okay, but  _you_  two  _have_  to be related."

Tae sighs a little dramatically. "Kiki is my twin sister, unfortunately. But at least  _I'm_  the pretty one between the two of us."

I roll my eyes in annoyance. Not because of his trite joke, but at the use of his childhood nickname for me in front of a subordinate.

"You're dismissed, V," I say curtly. "Go with Namjoon for your next assignment, please."

"Of course, Headmistress." His impression of Namjoon is miles better than his impression of me, and I smile in spite of myself. Tae takes my hand and vaguely brushes his lips across my knuckles, then turns on his heel and exits the room at a leisurely pace without stopping to ensure Namjoon will follow. But Namjoon does, of course, and shuts the door behind him as he goes.

"Please have a seat," I say to Yoongi as I take my own. "Make yourself comfortable." I offer my pack of cigarettes to him as well, but he holds a hand up in refusal while shrugging out of his coat.

"No, thank you. I'm trying to quit," he says when he sits. He has only spoken a handful of words, but I've picked up on his lazy, lilting way of speaking. His voice is very hushed, even without reason to be, as if using any more volume than necessary would expend too much energy.

"Worried about the cancer killing you before a counter-assassin does?" I tease and light one for myself.

"Nah. My girlfriend, actually."

"Ah." I exhale up and away from him as if that makes my smoking more polite. "She nag you about it a lot?"

"Constantly." He gives me a small smile that says he endures it because he loves her. I study his eyes and gauge that he and his girlfriend have been together for quite a while. Certainly longer than Jungkook and I.

I grunt in understanding. "I have a boyfriend who doesn't approve of my vice either. He's never said anything about it though. Not to me, at least."

"Never?" questions Yoongi skeptically.

"Nope."

"Not even passive-aggressively?"

A bark of laughter escapes me involuntarily, and I press my fingers to my mouth to prevent another from slipping. The notion of Jungkook uttering any ill word or acting petty towards me is genuinely amusing.

"Absolutely not," I say with a shake of my head.

"You must have him whipped, then, Headmistress."

"No, he... he's just really... um..." I struggle to think of an apt description for my boyfriend. I can think of dozens of adjectives, but I settle on a simple: "He's just a good person. Right down to his soul."

I hum to myself as I pause to reflect on that thought.

"Is that why you're with him? You think he can balance out the darkness in your life?" Yoongi guesses rather boldly.

I giggle quietly at his attempt to shrink me.

"Oh, I don't know if it's as deep as all that, now. I think I'm with him because I find him attractive in more ways than one."

Yoongi smirks for a second and lets the matter drop.

"So tell me, Yoongi," I go on. "Does your girlfriend know where you are right now?"

He shrugs indifferently. "A job interview."

"And does she know what the job entails?"

"Only that it pays very well and requires my degree in chemistry."

"She doesn't know you would be  _concocting_  various poisons and gases and biles with which to kill humans more effectively?"

"No," he admits with averted eyes.

"You want to quit smoking for her, but you won't tell her you're a killer." I grin widely and smoke seeps through my teeth. "I'm not sure in what ratio yet, but you, Min Yoongi, are made of sugar and ice."

Both of Yoongi's eyebrows shoot towards his hairline and his head snaps back in my direction. "That's an interesting statement, Miss. No one's ever described me that way before."

"Well, I'm excellent at reading people." I crush my cigarette in the ash tray and get to my feet. "But that doesn't help me see what you can do in the lab. Come. Let me give you the tour."

Yoongi and I step out of my office and I lead him back to the elevator. We climb aboard and descend to the basement in silence. I appreciate his unwillingness to fill the air with needless chatter, though I expected him to have plenty of questions about the position he is here to fill for me, and why it is currently vacant. Not that I would give him specific answers. Not just yet.

"Here we are," I announce as the elevator doors open to the underground level. I gesture with an outstretched arm for him to go on ahead of me, but he mimics the motion with an, "After you, Miss," so I smile and exit first.

I take him around and point out all the important amenities: the refrigerated storage room, the storage freezer, the location of the thermostats to monitor regularly, the controlled substances in locked cabinets and where the keys are located, etc.

Finally, he speaks up.

"You seem well-stocked. May I ask how you come by all the supplies you need?"

"Our federal friends provide some, but a lot of them are taken forcefully."

One side of his mouth quirks up briefly. "You employ professional thieves as well? Aren't murderers enough, Miss?"

_Fiesty, this one._

"It should be clear enough that I've no quarrels with breaking laws, as long as it leads to taking out the rotten bastards of the world," I say flatly, hoping to brook no further snarky remarks.

Yoongi inclines his head. "Of course, Headmistress." He pauses then adds, "If you want, I can, er...  _help gather_... materials for you. For my 'concoctions,' to use your word."

"That could definitely be arranged. We'll go for some practice runs later this week so I can judge your competency. But for right now..." I step around a lab table and brace my hands against it as I catch his gaze with mine. "Show me your 'cooking' skills."

 

* * *

##  **【Jungkook’s POV】**

"Thank you, everyone. That's all for today," I call out with a clap of my hands. The seven other men and women in the studio bow with respect and appreciation before lumbering towards the locker rooms. One young lady hangs back, however, and approaches me cautiously as I am swiping my towel across my sticky forehead.

"Mr. Jeon?" she speaks up timidly.

"What's up, Chae?" I answer with a polite smile.

Chaeyoung is the youngest person on either of my dance crews at only seventeen-years-old, and it's obvious that she has developed a bit of a crush on me during the past few months. I try to handle it as gently as I can without leading her on, but it's a fine line to walk. I know eventually I will have to sit her down and tell her in no uncertain terms that I am not interested, but I dread that conversation, as I do all uneasy confrontations.

She keeps her eyes trained somewhere on my chest rather than my face (something that would be considered entirely inappropriate if our positions were reversed) and stutters, "I was w-wondering if maybe you would b-be able to help me after puh-practice one day this week?" She blushes deeply and rushes on, "If you have time, that is. It's just... I really don't feel like I'm learning the choreo at a fast enough pace to be on par with the rest of the group by the time the competition comes around, and I don't want to hold anyone back, but if I had some extra practice, I think I'd be oh-"

I chuckle and hold up a hand to both calm her and stop her.

"I think you're doing very well, actually. And there's still plenty of time before the competition. But I'd be happy to set aside an extra hour to help you, if that'd make you more comfortable. Does tomorrow afternoon between practices work for you? I'm not sure what your class schedule is like..."

"Y-yes! I'm on winter break, so that'll work," Chaeyoung agrees readily, and I get the impression that I could have suggested midnight tonight and she would have accepted it.

"Okay. Say, two o'clock then?"

"Th-that'd be great, Mr. Jeon! Thank you so much! I-I'll suh-see you then."

I nod and give her another reassuring smile as she turns to go. Once she disappears into the changing rooms and safely out of earshot, my co-instructor sidles up beside me. I can almost feel the grease oozing from him.

"Private session, eh?" he teases.

"Fuck off, Jimin," I scoff with a hard shove to his shoulder. "You know it's just work."

Although he can be a humongous douchebag, Park Jimin is my best friend, and he has been ever since we were eight-years-old and my family moved next door to his. We went to school together, grew up together, and now we live together and own this dance studio together (thanks to the faith and start-up funds provided by our generous and ever-supportive parents).

"You can't honestly tell me you wouldn't hit that," says Jimin sleazily. "Chaeyoung is pretty fucking hot. She acts all innocent, but she knows exactly what she's doing."

"Don't be disgusting." I shake my head disapprovingly. "She's a fucking  _minor_ , dude. Besides, I 'hit' a lot hotter at least four days a week. Sometimes two or three times a day."

"Chae turns eighteen next month. Come on, you can have one younger and one older woman!" He laughs delightedly as if this is the greatest plan in the world.

"Don't even say shit like that, man," I snap with flushed cheeks and a rising temper. "I'd never cheat on Kinsoo."

"You've cheated before," Jimin tries to reason.

"Like, three years ago! It was one time and it was the worst thing I ever did. I'll never do it again, and  _definitely_  not to Kinsoo."

"Right. Kookie is in  _looove_  this time."

I sigh and turn away from him to gather my things into my gym bag and leave.

"I just don't understand why you're so hung up on her," presses Jimin, still referring to my girlfriend. He sits heavily on the bench right beside my bag and runs his fingers through the part in his sweaty blonde hair. "I mean, yeah, she's loaded and she's a complete fuckin' knockout, but you clearly love her a lot more than she loves you. If she does at all, that is."

"You really need to shut the fuck up about things you know nothing about," I growl harshly. "You've met her, like,  _twice_  for about ten minutes each time. What would you possibly know about our relationship?"

"I know that you've been wrapping a halo around her head while she's been wrapping  _you_  around her little finger."

Jimin's strangely poetic metaphor catches me off-guard and gives me pause. I flash him a curious look before recomposing myself.

"Sounds like you're afraid I'll get hurt," I say off-handedly to make light of the mood. "I'm touched, Jiminie."

"Has she ever  _told_  you she loves you?" he goes on to ask, ignoring my comment.

"Why do you care? And why does that matter? She doesn't have to say it. I know how she feels about me."

 _It's all in the way she looks at me, the way she speaks to me, the way she touches me._  But I don't expect a playboy like Jimin to understand that.

Jimin crosses his arms against his chest and looks up at me dubiously. "Then why not try taking your relationship to the next level?"

I scowl and furrow my eyebrows. "Like how?"

"Well, fuck, man, I don't know! I don't usually get past the breakfast-in-bed stage. What about... uh... introducing her to your parents? That seems reasonable after being together for five months."

"Seven months," I correct without thinking about it.

Jimin rolls his eyes. "What _ever_ , dude."

I dig my tongue into my cheek as I turn his suggestion over in my head. It's good advice, but I'm hesitant to suggest it to Kinsoo. It's not that I'm afraid to show her off to my parents, it's that I don't think she would be too keen on the idea.

I'm young, but I'm not stupid - I know Kinsoo has been keeping me at arm's length when it comes to taking certain steps in our relationship. Perhaps that should make me nervous or uneasy about our whole relationship, but it doesn't. Kinsoo is just different from the other girls I've dated. She's not even a girl - she's a full-fledged  _woman_. I cannot fairly compare her to any of my previous girlfriends.

Dating someone shy and compliant and sweet like Chaeyoung would be easy. She would laugh at all my jokes, take an interest in all of my hobbies, and dote on me like the perfect wife-in-training. That's how all of my ex-girlfriends were. The attention is great for a while, but eventually it gets boring and predictable.

Dating Kinsoo, on the other hand, is a challenge. She rolls her eyes at a lot of my jokes, teases me about my avid computer gaming, and has never offered to massage my feet after a long day in the dance studio. She is headstrong and brash whereas I am easy-going and don't like to step on anyone's toes.

I've never dated anyone older than me before but I find it very exciting. The fact that a woman like Kinsoo would even look twice at me is flattering and a big boost to my confidence, even as it simultaneously confuses the hell out of me. She could have any sophisticated, worldly, debonair man she wants, yet she chooses to date a guy like me: someone still barely out of high school with no college degree who lives in a crummy apartment with his douchebag roommate. 

But, despite our age difference, we also have plenty of similarities. Our tastes in music and food and films, for example. And our conversations have been easy from the start. I thoroughly enjoy talking with her about anything and everything. She almost always has some sort of insight on the topic and often gives me helpful advice. She is a great listener, but she also isn't afraid to tell me to shut up because I've been talking too much and she hasn't been able to get a word in edgewise. The best times are when I manage to get her cheeks to tinge a pretty pink; every time I do, my heart does somersaults.

Kinsoo is the most intelligent, confident, beautiful, intriguing, sexiest person I have ever met, and I am determined to make things work between us because it's obvious that she is one hell of a catch. I'm happy to go along at whatever pace she is comfortable with.

I love her.

The way we met wasn't exactly romantic. It was back in early May when I was still twenty-two, and it was late enough at night to be considered very early morning. Jimin and I were playing pool at a bar where we had been celebrating our friend Yugyeom's twenty-first birthday. Yugyeom had actually already taken off with his lay-of-the-evening (as was his right as the birthday boy), but Jimin and I decided to chill and stay a while longer.

It was about a half hour before last call when I noticed an angel of a woman sitting at the bar. She was very eye-catching in her gold sequin dress and her crimson hair flowing over her shoulders and down her back in soft curls, so I wondered why I hadn't seen her earlier. She had a cigarette between two fingers of the same hand she was holding her martini glass with. She appeared to be alone, but I could see men on the bar stools to either side of her giving her shameless looks of interest. None of them attempted to get up and go talk to her, though. They seemed content with watching from a distance. I must have been staring a little too long myself because Jimin suddenly snapped his fingers an inch in front of my face and I flinched.

 _"I doubt you're her type, Kook,"_  he teased with a cocky smirk and a jerk of his thumb in her direction, but I ignored him.

It had to have been the alcohol coursing through my veins that gave me the courage to set down my pool cue, square my shoulders, and walk over to the bar, but I felt stone sober. I sat down and offered her a banal line about what she was drinking and if I could buy her next one. She barely even turned her head in my direction as she accepted my offer.

She said,  _"It's not very polite of you to ditch your friend._ 'Bros before hoes'  _\- isn't that what the kids say?"_

I remember snorting a bit unflatteringly at her joke. There she was calling me a kid, but I would have bet anything at the time that she wasn't more than a year or two older than me. I would eventually learn she is actually six years (well, five years, eight months and two days, but I only counted because I was curious and not because it matters) my elder.

 _"Don't worry, he's done more than his fair share of ditching,"_  I assured her.  _"Maybe it's time I returned the favor."_

This time she looked at me full-on. Her ruby lips curled into a grin that set her green eyes ablaze. Smoke flared from her nostrils. In that moment, I felt like an overly confident hero who had foolishly waltzed into the dragon's lair without fully comprehending the danger (yes, that was the actual analogy that flashed through my sophomoric mind; blame the video games). I was so far out of my league, but it was too late to turn back.

_"I'm Kinsoo."_

_"Jungkook."_

She took a slow drag from her cigarette as she looked me over. Despite my nerves, I felt confident that she liked what she saw. I've always known that I am a good-looking guy: handsome face, great body, winning smile. And I needed to earn her approval by my looks alone because I could not for the life of me think of anything to say to convince her to come home with me. Luckily, I didn't have to.

 _"Tell me, Jungkook."_ She stamped out her cigarette and took a dainty sip of the fresh drink I had bought her. Then she said the magic words:  _"Would you like to keep me company tonight?"_

 _God, did I._  It was all I could do to nervously lick my lips and nod my head.

And just like that, we were stumbling into mine and Jimin's apartment with our mouths locked and fingers working frantically at each other's clothing. My body was on fire and my head was foggy with the smell of her: a lush combination of smoke and cinnamon. I'd never wanted to fuck anyone as much as I wanted her, and it seemed to me that she was just as eager. She was clearly looking to lose herself in someone else for the night, and I was more than happy to be that person for her.

The sex was absolutely incredible. As long as I live, I will never forget the way her deliciously warm pussy positively  _gushed_  over the two fingers I had buried deep inside it. Nor will I forget the bashful way this sultry vixen actually  _apologized_  to me for the single hottest experience of my life. I think she was even blushing when I licked the salty, sweet, juicy prize from my hand.

We fucked for hours and ended up talking for hours more. She got up to dress and leave sometime around six-thirty, but as I watched her slide her panties back up her long legs and over her perfect ass, I found myself imploring her to stay. She surprised me by agreeing, probably out of pity. I'm sure I sounded a bit pathetic, but I was worried that if she left, I would never see her again, and then I would never be entirely sure if the whole night was just a dream or not.

But it was all real.

Later that day, as I was seeing her out the door (with Jimin spying on us from the kitchen or the living room, no doubt), I convinced her to go out on a real date with me. One date miraculously gave way to five, and now, seven months later, it still feels as surreal to be able to call her my girlfriend today as it did back then.

While I have been reminiscing, Jimin has been speaking, but I haven't heard a word. I ask him to repeat himself and he rolls his eyes again.

"I  _said_...” He drags the word out to two syllables. “Christmas is just around the corner. You should invite her to dinner with our families. And  _don't_ let her blow you off like she did for Thanksgiving."

"She didn't  _'blow me off,'_ " I huff defensively. "She had plans with her brother. They always spend Thanksgiving together. He's the only family she has, you know."

"If you say so," sighs Jimin, clearly unmoved and unconvinced. "But if she cares about you like you say she does, she won't turn down spending your first Christmas as a couple together. Women are supposed to eat that shit up."

I zip up my bag and sling the strap over my shoulder. "You're right. She  _won't_  turn me down because she cares about me  _a lot_ , jackass. You'll see. I'll invite her tonight."

"Great," says Jimin quite disinterestedly even though this was his idea. "Just go before Chaeyoung comes back and decides she also needs her pelvic muscles examined or some shit."

This time  _I_  roll my eyes at  _him_. "You're good to lock up without me, right?" I ask.

"Yeah, dude. I’m good. I'll see ya later.”

I nod and leave without another word. When I step out to the parking lot, I pull my cell phone from my pocket and fire a text to Kinsoo:

 **[Mon. Dec. 11. 19:12] Me:**   _hey babe. jus got done w/ evening practice. id love to see u tonight. maybe i could pick up some dinner for us? whatevr u want, my treat_

I toss my bag into the back of my aged but trusty sports car and slide into the driver's seat as I wait for her to text me back. I turn the key in the ignition to warm up the engine and get the heater going. I scroll through my social media in the meantime but find nothing of real interest, as usual. Sometimes I wonder why I even have Facebook and Twitter and Instagram accounts. Kinsoo has always laughed at them and called them self-indulgent websites of ego masturbation and mindless pseudo-entertainment, and I'm beginning to think she's right.

As soon as my thoughts turn towards her, my phone buzzes.

 **[Mon. Dec. 11. 19:14] Kinsoo ❤:**   _I actually already made and ate dinner. Sorry. I wasn't sure if you'd be coming by tonight._

My heart sinks a little at the rejection, but soon soars again with her next text:

 **[Mon. Dec. 11. 19:15] Kinsoo ❤:**   _You should definitely come over, though. There's still plenty of food. Salad and homemade ravioli._

 **[Mon. Dec. 11. 19:15] Kinsoo ❤:**   _But just a heads up - Taehyung is here._

My thumbs stop tapping mid-reply and hover over the touch-screen keyboard as the second part of her message comes through. I'd hate to intrude on her evening with her brother, but I do really want to see her, so I backspace and ask:

 **[Mon. Dec. 11. 19:16] Me:**   _are u sure thats ok? i dnt want to be rude_

 **[Mon. Dec. 11. 19:17] Kinsoo ❤:**   _Nonsense. Tae doesn't mind. And I'm the one who feels rude for leaving you so abruptly this morning. I'd love to see you, too._

It's comments like these that I should show Jimin so he'll finally know what I'm talking about when I say that my girlfriend loves me too without having to spell it out for me. If I actually gave a shit what he thought, that is.

I smile and type back:

 **[Mon. Dec. 11. 19:18] Me:**   _ok sweetheart. :) ill be there in 15_

 **[Mon. Dec. 11. 19:19] Kinsoo ❤:**   _I'll get a plate ready for you. Drive safely, baby. See you soon._

 

* * *

 

I pull up to the gated residential community ten minutes later. The guard - having seen me come around often enough by now - opens the gate with a friendly smile and wave and lets me drive on through. I wave back as I pass.

Kinsoo's posh, two-story home sits on the right side of the trio houses at the end of a cul-de-sac. It is entirely too much house for one young woman to inhabit by herself, but she likes the privacy it affords over an apartment or condo. The only excuse for why she lives in a place of such grandeur is because she has extravagant tastes and can afford it.

Apparently professional assassins like being alone and make a lot of money.

Of course I couldn't believe it when Kinsoo told me what she does for a living. What she  _actually_  does, I mean. She initially told me she was a teacher, which I suppose wasn't a complete lie, but she withheld the grim details. When she told me the truth three months into our relationship, she said it in such a casual manner that I thought she was fucking with me. She didn't try very hard to persuade me, either. She just let me think that she was joking, and that's how I knew she was indeed serious.

I would be lying if I said I was totally cool with it from the beginning. For a while, I often caught myself thinking about how the same hands that would cup my face, stroke my hair, and fondle my balls have also killed people. She could surely kill  _me_  if she wanted to. I didn't know if I wanted to be involved with someone like that. But then I realized how much she must really trust me to share something like that with me. Trust is crucial in a relationship, and it gives me hope that she is as committed to making this work as I am.

I turn in to her driveway and park beside Taehyung's car while trying not to ogle it too much; to say it puts mine to shame would be an understatement. I get out of my car and stride up the walkway. The Christmas lights I helped Kinsoo drape across the bushes a couple weeks ago light my way. I knock on the front door and tap the frozen slush off the toes of my boots against the welcome mat.

A moment later, the door opens to reveal not my girlfriend, but the taller, male version of her. All of his facial features - eyes, nose, cheekbones, chin - are exactly the same as Kinsoo's. Even his unnatural hair color is similar to hers. For a second I think he even smells like her, too, but then I stupidly realize that it's just the smell of the home wafting out. Then I take in his outfit: his colorful Timberlands (much flashier than the old, tan ones covering my own feet), his leather pants (seriously, people actually  _wear_ leather pants?), his loose white dress shirt with a few too many buttons undone (real classy), and the golden  _K_  pendant hanging in view against his slightly tanned chest (I’m sure it was pricey, but it looks a bit tacky to me). I must be a disappointing contrast to him in my backwards baseball cap, well-worn gray hoodie, and ripped, faded blue jeans.

Taehyung and I have always been amicable towards each other during our handful of brief interactions, but I can't help but detect some underlying feeling of unease between us as well. I cannot get a good read on him. There is just something in his smile sometimes that seems to me like he is hiding something.

"Well, if it isn't Jeon Jungkook," declares Taehyung with a wide grin. He steps aside and adds, "Come on in. Kiki said you were coming."

I have always been a tad jealous of his endearing nickname for Kinsoo. I tried using it on her myself once, but she flinched as if I had slapped her and told me not to call her that. It stung me, and I know she could tell it did because she quickly tried to explain how it's just a stupid little name Taehyung has called her ever since they were kids and it's just a habit now. I suppose it makes sense, but it still grants an intimacy to their relationship that our own doesn't have. I don't even know why it bothers me, to be honest. It's totally irrational. After all, brothers and sisters are going to have different relationships than boyfriends and girlfriends.

"Hey, Taehyung," I reply as I step over the threshold. "How's it going?"

"Oh, I'm doing pretty well. Glad you're here, to be honest."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I thought it'd be nice to spend time with Kinsoo after being out of town the past couple weeks, but all she's done so far is force me to help cook and then scold me for doing it wrong. I'm glad to have someone else here for her to nag." His grin widens even more to let me know he is teasing.

I smile back and say, "Maybe it's just you, man. She doesn't nag  _me_."

"No kidding?" he says as if surprised. "Well, you're lucky, then."

We start making our way down the hall and towards the kitchen.

"It's probably just, like, an ‘older’ sister complex or something," I offer jokingly.

Taehyung chuckles quietly. "Probably." We turn the corner and he says a little louder, "Hey Kiki, Jungkook is here."

Kinsoo looks up from the stove. I notice she has changed out of her nice dress and into her "house clothes." Her face visibly brightens when she sees me, though, so she still looks just as beautiful. It's as if Spring has prematurely bloomed right here in her kitchen.

"Oh. Hi baby," she says cheerfully. "You got here fast. I'm still getting the ravioli warmed up for you. Almost done."

"How 'bout a kiss first?" I suggest with a smirk.

I walk over and pull her to me by her waist, and she stumbles flush against me. She squeaks and braces her hands against my shoulders, then smiles back up at me rather demurely. I lean in and kiss her a bit more eagerly than I intended. The initial feel of her lips has me instantly craving more, even with the telltale signs of a recent cigarette still clinging to her breath.

She giggles against my mouth and pushes me away with both hands. I can tell she's a little uncomfortable with the display of affection in front of her brother. It tickles me to see her squirm when she is normally so collected and in control. It's the same reason why I love it so much whenever I make her blush. It reminds me that she is merely human after all.

"Go sit down," she commands as she extracts herself from me. "Or you can go grab the salad out of the fridge if you want some. Glass bowl, top sh- Well, you'll see it."

"Eh. Depends on what kind of dressing you have to go with it," I think aloud. I go to the refrigerator to quickly peruse its contents. As I reach to grab the bottle of ranch dressing (grimacing a little at the label proclaiming it "low-fat"), Kinsoo speaks up again.

"While you're in there, can you also grab the white box from the middle shelf, please, baby? I think Tae and I are going to have dessert while you eat dinner, if that's okay."

"Sure, babe."

"Ooh. What's for dessert?" says Taehyung as he takes a seat at the kitchen table.

"I picked up some tiramisu from that bakery on eighth street," answers Kinsoo. "It looked too good to pass up."

"You really went all-out Italian tonight, huh?" observes Taehyung, beating me to the punch.

The three of us settle around the table and tuck in to our respective dishes.

"So how was work, sweetheart?" I ask Kinsoo conversationally. Then I remember, "How's the new guy?"

She hums with her lips around her coffee mug since I've caught her mid-sip. How she can drink coffee at this hour is beyond me, but evidently it compliments the tiramisu well. I'm more of a tea person myself.

"He's good," she starts after she swallows. "Brilliant, in fact. He made me an injection that can numb a person's entire body in seconds, and it only took him ten minutes to make it. Apparently it's undetectable on tox screens, too."

I finish crunching the bite of lettuce and tomato and cucumber in my mouth before exclaiming, "Wow, no shit? That's really impressive!"

"Thank God. We've needed a competent new chemist for a while now," inputs Taehyung with a sideways glance at Kinsoo. I notice Kinsoo's mouth tighten a bit and she avoids looking at her brother.

Before I can say anything else, she addresses me with the same inquiry about work. She is clearly changing the subject, but I let it go.

"Practice is going really well," I share happily. "Although that one girl I told you about - Chaeyoung - she asked me for some extra help, so we're getting together between sessions tomorrow afternoon. Jimin gave me shit about it, of course."

Kinsoo is far beyond petty things like jealousy, and if I told her the details of what Jimin said she would probably find it funny, but I don't go into it.

"He's just jealous that she asked you and not him," says Kinsoo. Her green eyes sparkle with amusement.

I hum ambiguously and stuff some ravioli into my mouth. After chewing, I decide to segue into what I came here to ask her tonight in the first place.

"He did give me a good idea, though," I say slowly. Then I quickly clarify, "I mean, not about Chaeyoung. About something else."

"What's that, baby?" She sounds genuinely interested and curious, which makes me even more nervous to ask.

I lick my lips and say, "He mentioned Christmas plans, and I was thinking you could join me at my parents' house? Meet my family? It won't be, like, my big extended family or anything. Just my parents, my grandparents, Jimin's parents, maybe Jimin's brother. And it probably won't actually be  _on_  Christmas Day. Maybe Christmas Eve or the day before. I think my parents are going to visit my brother abroad on Christmas Day since he came  _here_  last year and..."

I realize I am rambling and quickly shut my mouth. I don't know what reaction I expect from Kinsoo exactly, but continuing to eat her dessert as if I haven't been speaking to her for the past half a minute isn't it. I glance over at Taehyung and find him just as immersed in his food, but with the hint of a smile on his lips. Does he find this funny?

"You should come, too, Taehyung," I blurt out as if that makes everything less uncomfortable. At this, Taehyung raises his gaze to meet mine and holds it there for a few solid seconds before looking to his sister.

Kinsoo sets down her spoon and smiles at me warmly. "I think that sounds wonderful, Jungkook. We'd love to come. Both of us."

 

* * *

##  **【Kinsoo's POV】**

" _Wonderful_ , huh?" repeats Taehyung after Jungkook has backed down the driveway and driven off with a honk. I would have liked for him to stay the night again, but I craved Tae's company even more.

Except now he's choosing to act like a brat.

"What did you expect me to say?" I round on him. "I already turned down his invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. I can't turn down Christmas, too. We're supposed to be a legitimate couple."

"Well why the fuck did you drag  _me_  into this, too?" Tae groans petulantly. "Christmas dinner with your boyfriend's family sounds like actual Hell."

I cannot fault him for that; he has a point.

"Jungkook was the one who offered. But you're right. I'm sorry," I say softly. I reach up and cup the side of his face. "I'd just really rather not have to go alone. I'd rather have  _you_  by my side for the evening, Tae."

I'm not pandering, just telling the truth. And I'm only cajoling him a little bit when I invite him upstairs to spend  _this_  evening by my side as well. Or on top of me, rather. Or under me. Or behind me. Whatever he wants.

"Damn right whatever I want," Taehyung grumbles under his breath, but I know he doesn't really care if I hear or not.

We only make it to the living room before he whirls me around to slam me against the nearest wall. The only reaction I have time for is a gasp of slight pain and surprise before he pins my arms above my head and leans in close enough to ghost his lips over mine when he speaks gruffly.

"You're lucky I love you so goddamn much, otherwise I wouldn't tolerate  _half_  the shit you put me through," he growls lowly. His emerald eyes flash dangerously. I get the impression this is the most genteel thing he will say to me for the next hour or so, but that's fine with me. It'll be fun to play along.

I slip into my role as one would slip into a bath.

"I'm sorry," I apologize again in a voice barely above a whisper. I rub my knees together sheepishly. "Muh-maybe you should remind me who I really belong to?"

Taehyung dips his gaze downwards and grins crookedly at my willing display of submission. He tightens his grip on my wrists.

"Now that's a lesson you seem keen on forgetting, kitten," he purrs, his tone soft but a little coarse, like pure velvet. "You are so fucking stubborn. Why do you insist on making things difficult for me?"

"I don't know," I moan in false misery, writhing a little bit for added effect. "I can't help it. I think I might be a cockslut."

"Oh, I  _know_  you are, sis," he agrees. He tilts his head to the right and grazes his lips against the spot where my jaw meets my neck. "That's why I am not going to go easy on you tonight."

I nod my head against his face. "Yes, sir, I understand. I need to be punished."

"Indeed, you do. Safe word?"

"Grapefruit," I murmur dutifully.

Taehyung hums in approval and gives my mouth two quick, chaste kisses: his customary, reassuring  _I love you_  before we begin. Then he brings one of his hands down to lightly swat my cheek a few times: a contrast to his tender gesture just seconds ago. It is a warning of things to come, and my depravity has my core tingling already.

"There's my good slut. Now take your clothes off, and be quick about it."

He releases my other hand and takes a couple steps back to give me room. I hustle to obey, shredding my loose sweater and tight leggings in a flash to stand bare-breasted and clad only in my panties. Tae stops me when I go to remove the pale blue cotton.

"Wait. Keep those on for now," he decides without even looking at them. He keeps his eyes firmly on mine even as he jerks his chin over his shoulder. "Go sit on the couch and spread your legs for me. Hands under your thighs."

I smile and step around him delicately, swaying my hips a little more than natural as I go. I can feel his gaze burning into the flesh of my barely concealed buttocks now that my back is turned, and I inwardly rejoice. I sit down and pull my legs apart like he commands, then level my gaze with his again.

"Like this, sir?" I ask sweetly.

"Yes, but no more talking unless I ask you a question or otherwise command you to speak. This is your only warning."

I swallow and nod my head in understanding. Though I meant well, I still know better than to speak out of turn once we've started.

Taehyung runs his shiny pink tongue over his lips as he contemplates his next move from the other side of the room. The desire for some friction on my heated center is rising every second, but I obediently keep my hands tucked under my open legs. I wish Tae would let me touch myself. Or better yet, come and do it himself. The thought makes me lick my lips, too, and my brother takes notice.

"You seem a little anxious, kitten. Tell me what you're thinking about."

"I-I'm thinking about you touching me. Touching me anywhere," I confess.

He snorts derisively. "Pathetic. Why on Earth do you think I would touch you just yet?"

I mistakenly take it for more of a scolding than an actual question to be answered, and Tae barks at me for a response.

"You wouldn't, sir," I mumble.

"That's right," he says pleasantly, and it sounds a little like praise. "I'm not going to touch your whore cunt that easily, sis. Frankly, you disgust me. Do you know why?"

"Because I'm a stubborn cockslut who insists on making things difficult for you?" I venture.

"Are you mocking me, Kinsoo?"

 _Shit._  His use of my full name in this context is not a good omen.

I bite my lip and shake my head. "No, sir, I wasn't. I mean, I'm not."

He grunts in disbelief. "I think you  _were_  mocking me. Let me guess: you're so desperate for any sort of touch that you'd even take a spanking. Is that right?"

"That wasn't my goal, sir."

"Are you sure? You said you wanted me to touch you anywhere. I assume that also meant any  _way_. Does it not?"

"But, the marks..." There is no way I can innocently explain away the handprints on my ass if Jungkook were to find them tomorrow.

Taehyung picks up on my apprehension but does not sympathize with me.

"Are you actually worried about what your pet will think of your bruised ass? Do you think  _I_  give a shit what he thinks? No, no, kitten. You've definitely earned yourself a spanking now, just for your stupid naivety. Your body belongs to  _me_. I don't give a  _fuck_  about the repercussions you'll have to deal with later. Do you understand me?"

I actually consider using our safe word. Barely ten minutes in and I already want to do something neither of us have ever done before: stop our act prematurely. I know Tae is only saying this because of the roles we are playing, and his words are not meant to be taken seriously, but the act of slapping my ass raw would be very real indeed.

I suddenly get an idea.

"You're right, of course. I do deserve to be spanked," I concede. "But may I please make a request, sir?"

"I hardly think you're in a position to bargain. But since you're asking nicely, I'll listen."

I lick my lips again and supplicate, "Can... will you spank my pussy instead? Please, sir? I'll take as many slaps as you like. As many as it takes for me to learn my lesson. Just - please do it on my pussy instead."

Taehyung ponders my request for a long moment. His face betrays no hint of his thoughts. My eyes drop down to the floor in presumed rejection.

"Fine. We're going to fifteen. Take your panties off."

 _Only half as many more than usual._  He must be feeling oddly magnanimous. I open my mouth to thank him but quickly snap it closed when I remember he did not indicate for me to speak. I settle for nodding my head silently as I get to my feet and slip out of my underwear. Tae finally closes the distance between us in three strides of his long legs.

"Turn around and hold on to the back of the couch," he commands forcefully. "Legs spread again. Further. That's it. You think you're getting your way, but I assure you we're doing this  _my_  way, kitten."

With that promise, he lies a palm flat against my back to keep me in place. His other hand moves towards my burning core but does not make contact. I nearly whine aloud at the proximity of his touch - so close, yet so far.  _Soon, though._

"Are you ready?" His question is both thoughtful and threatening.

"Yes sir," I whisper.

The first swat comes half a second after my affirmation and I am left with a satisfying sting between my legs. Tae gives me two seconds of reprieve between each subsequent strike.

_Whap._

_Whap._

_Whap._

It takes six smacks for the moan in my throat to break free. By then, the lips of my vagina are inflamed not just from arousal, but also from pain. My burning clit is throbbing.

"Moaning already, kitten?" Tae muses. "Perhaps I'll make it a full twenty since you're enjoying yourself so much. What do you think?"

"That's very ge- _hen_ -erous of you, sir," I stutter as his next slap comes mid-sentence. My sharp fingernails dig into the smooth leather surface of my couch as I cling to it to ground myself, and I sincerely think I will claw straight through it. "Thank you. You're too guh- _hood_  to me."

"I  _am_  too good to you," grunts Taehyung, sounding displeased. He makes his next spanks especially hard as if to physically dispel the notion.

_Whap!_

_Whap!_

_WHAP!_

When we reach nineteen, he unexpectedly shoves two of his fingers straight into my pussy, all the way to the last knuckle. I gasp and almost fall forward into the couch when my knees buckle, but Tae wraps his arm around my waist to hold me up.

"Your cunt is soaked," he observes as calmly as if he was merely pointing out that it has started to snow outside. "You are going to take my dick so well tonight."

Tae gives his fingers a few twists inside my walls before pulling them free and giving my core one last severe smack that resonates in my teeth. My legs are shaking when he grips my waist and spins me back around to face him. Before I can even clearly see his face, his lips crash onto mine. I groan against his mouth and beg entry with my tongue, which he grants with a soft moan of his own. He tastes of our dessert: chocolate and coffee and cream. His hands wander down to my ass and latch on with a painfully tight grip, probably lamenting the missed opportunity to mark it the way he wanted.

Our passionate kiss deepens. My little reward for taking my punishment like a good submissive. But of course it doesn't last too long. Taehyung tangles half his fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck and yanks my head back. We stand there panting and overflowing with lust for each other. Although the heat of his body is washing over me, I tremble slightly in his hold. If my twin notices, he does not mention it. He merely glances at my lips and smirks wickedly.

"I've got something better for your pretty mouth to do now," he informs me. "Get my dick out of my pants. Hurry up."

He pushes me roughly by my shoulders and I drop to my knees on the floor. I hasten to do as he bids, unbuckling his belt and tugging his fly down over his bulge swiftly. I drag his pants down his legs then return for his underwear. His cock springs free from its confines to stare me in the face accusingly. It bobs invitingly as Tae kicks his clothing aside, but it isn't fully hard yet.

"Well? What are you waiting for, kitten? Get to work. Be a good little slut now."

I lick my lips, square my shoulders a bit, then bend to meet my task. I expect to hear Tae's breath hitch the instant my tongue flicks against the sensitive underside of his cockhead, but my ears are met with aloof silence. Obviously I will have to work hard at undoing him tonight. I lick long stripes up and down his shaft, and it hardens considerably more under my ministrations. When it is fully erect, I plunge my mouth down on it until the tip pokes my tonsils. This time I succeed in making Tae gasp, if only very quietly. It is still enough to make my heart swell in triumph.

"Don't tease," Taehyung dictates. "I know you can suck dick better than that. Get me all the way down your throat.  _Now_."

I pull my head back an inch, breathe deeply through my nose, and proceed to choke myself on my brother's beautiful dick. My gag reflex activates and my throat spasms over the column of flesh blocking my airway. Tae does not restrain himself from tossing his head back and groaning out his pleasure this time. One of his hands finds its way to the back of my head and holds it but doesn't push any further. There is no room to push, anyway; I am already bottomed-out. My nose is nestled in the soft curls of his pubic hair. I concentrate on relaxing my throat muscles and conserving my oxygen.

"That's it, kitten," Tae encourages me, sounding just a little breathless himself. "Take it all.  _Shit_ , that feels good. Hold it just a little longer. I know you can."

The need to please him is my only priority. I ignore the burning protest in my lungs and the prick of tears in the corners of my eyes. I try to swallow the build-up of saliva in my mouth, and the motion makes Tae grunt and mumble incoherently. He pulls me off of his penis and I immediately suck in greedy gulps of air.

"Wrecked already?" he asks me. He takes my chin and tilts it up. He absently wipes the drool from my chin with his thumb as he studies my face. I keep my eyes trained on his. Then he says, "I think my little whore can go twice more. You wouldn't let me bruise your ass, so now I'm going to bruise your throat. Maybe then you won't backtalk me like an insolent bitch. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"N-no sir," I manage hoarsely.

And without hesitation, I take another deep breath and return his cock to its place entrenched in my mouth and throat. Tae whimpers in bliss, and the sound motivates me to hold my position a few seconds longer than the first time. When I pull free, Tae takes a brief second to caress my cheeks with both of his thumbs before he forces me right back down.

By the time he lets me go again, my face, his dick, his balls, and his thighs are all coated in my spit, and my throat is well and thoroughly abused, but I feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Especially while viewing the state of his cock: all angry-looking and red, the head bordering on purple. If I were to wipe away the sheen of saliva, I know I would find it weeping precum from the slit.

"What a good girl," Taehyung murmurs, and I preen under his appreciation. "Now, how about I stuff some other holes of yours?"

Both my pussy and my anus clench in anticipation. "Please, sir," I rasp.

We head upstairs to the bedroom where we can be more comfortable. The scene of Jungkook fucking me in this same bed less than twenty-four hours ago flashes through my mind unbidden, but luckily the image soon dissipates when Tae lifts me up and drops me onto the mattress unceremoniously. Our own actions will be utterly heinous compared to an adoring boyfriend making love to his girlfriend.

"You've done well so far, for a stubborn cockslut who likes to make things difficult for me," Tae says huskily. He unbuttons his shirt with nimble fingers and shrugs out of it to stand naked before me in all his lithe glory. He smirks as he puts on a show of running his fingers up and down his distended length at an agonizingly slow pace. "And now you're going to keep being a good girl and take this dick up your cunt, then up your ass. You're going to get fucked until you can't feel your goddamn legs, and the only way you're talking your way out of it is by using the safe word. Got it?"

"Yes sir," I say in a voice like gravel.

Tae's eyes twinkle as he climbs onto the bed after me. He captures my lips in a swift, hard kiss while getting to his knees and pulling me onto his lap. His stony member becomes trapped between his stomach and my crotch, and I moan at the pressure it puts on my neglected clit. I widen my legs to press further against him.

Without a word, he lifts me up and sits me down onto his cock smoothly. I gasp at the sudden intrusion inside my pulsating walls. There is still a great burning sensation between my legs from the spanking I received, but it only adds to the pleasure of finally having him inside of me. With a grunt and a thrust of his hips, Tae lodges himself to the hilt and completes me. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in the crook of it as my body becomes overwhelmed with sensation.

"Jesus fuck," whispers Taehyung. Just those two words are enough to flatter me.

I lean back a little to look at him again. He keeps his eyes on the spot where our bodies are conjoined and readjusts his grip on my hips to grind me back and forth. It doesn't take long for him to pull me halfway up his length only to push me back down against his thighs. He commands me to ride him, and I obey. I bounce on his cock tirelessly, and his hips rear up to meet me blow for blow. The room becomes a vulgar symphony of our moans, groans, sighs, and skin slapping together. I tilt my head back and close my eyes. We maintain our quick pace of pushing and shoving against each other. We don't converse; we simply relish being with each other in this way, relish the sound and feel of each other as we have thousands of times before.

But of course, our act is not over yet, and Tae reminds me of that by removing me from his lap abruptly.

"Get on your stomach now," he instructs. "It's time for me to fuck your little asshole."

I get into position and he props a pillow under my hips - not to make me more comfortable, but to keep my ass properly elevated for him. Tae's hands roam leisurely over the expanse of my hindquarters, then he clamps down and spreads it apart to reveal my puckered rim. He has to let go of one cheek to lick his fingers and use them to moisten his target. He eases one digit inside my asshole to test the resistance, but does not linger. I dare say he is eager to bury himself inside me, but only in my mind. Tae takes hold of his cock and lines it up. The tip presses against my spit-covered hole with misleading gentleness. It is slick with the secretions of both our arousals.

"Ready?" asks my brother, ever the gentleman.

I voice my consent with a simple  _yes_  and he begins the plunge. My body immediately tenses and balks at the pain of his cockhead pushing in where it doesn't belong, even though it has visited dozens of times before. It is a feeling that I cannot seem to get used to. Tae coaxes me through with half-hearted shushes and broken strings of soothing words, too caught up in his pleasure to offer anything more. I clutch a second pillow to my face and breathe deeply, forcing my body to relax and accept the pain until it passes. Inch by slow inch, he eventually sheathes himself completely. His breath is coming in heavy pants now. Our earlier activities must have worked him up more than he let on.

" _So fucking tight_ ," Tae hisses. He slaps one round globe of my butt. "You're going to let me come inside this tight ass of yours since you wouldn't let me fill your cunt up earlier at the office, yeah?"

"Yes, yes. I want you to fill my ass up with your cum," I say as earnestly as I can through gritted teeth.

He drags his length out a few inches and rolls his hips back into me experimentally. We groan in tandem - him out of pleasure, me out of discomfort. I try to slip my hand between my legs, but Taehyung sees my movement and slaps my fingers away sharply.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growls. "Your pleasure tonight comes from  _me_. It  _belongs_  to  _me_."

With that having been said, he lowers his body to drape against mine. He slides his own hand right where I want it and takes my slippery, engorged clit between two of his fingers. I keen in satisfaction at being touched at last.

"Don't you dare come before I say you can, though," he warns me. "Your orgasm belongs to me, too. Understood?"

I nod my head frantically and buck against his hand. Now that my bundle of nerves is being attended to, I don't mind when Taehyung begins rutting into me animalistically. The bed frame creaks along to the sounds of our pants and whimpers. Tae's feverish pace has me aching on one end, but on the other end is the promise of a blissful climax. I begin to squirm, certain that I will not be able to hold out for him. My end is approaching rapidly. I try to convey to Tae through my whines just how dangerously close I am, but the speed of his thrusts and his fingers only quickens.

Suddenly, he is groaning in my ear: "Come for me, kitten. Come now."

That's all it takes for my body to seize. My fingers curl. My toes curl. I writhe stiffly against Tae's hand to help bring myself to total completion. My pussy clamps down around nothing, but my anus squeezes the orgasm right out of him. He grunts loudly and paints my anal cavity with his sticky white release. The heat of it sends tingles up my spine.

"Holy shit, I'm  _still_  coming," he moans. He rocks his hips into me to wring out every last drop of cum and pleasure to be had.

I cringe when he finally withdraws, and Tae peppers kisses along my bare shoulders, signalling the end of our play and the start of our aftercare. He shifts to the side and turns me over to face him so he can kiss my lips as well. I return the appreciative gesture and cradle his face in my hands.

"That was  _so_  fucking good, Kiki," he hums against my mouth. "You are amazing. I love you."

"I love you, too," I whisper back, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

Taehyung smiles and plants one last kiss on my forehead before saying, "Come on. I'll help you get cleaned up."

"Mm. I don't think I can move, though," I chuckle lightly. “You  _actually_  fucked me until I can’t feel my legs, Tae.”

"Then I'll carry you," he offers brightly, already moving to get up. He hooks one arm behind my shoulders and the other under my knees to lift me bridal-style from the bed.

I giggle girlishly as he brings me into the bathroom and sets me down gently on the edge of the garden tub. He grins back at me handsomely as he turns the faucet knobs to draw a bath. As the steaming water fills the tub, Tae goes to the toilet to relieve his bladder. He comes back and joins me in the tub when the water is near the brim. The heat stings my abused nether regions, but my little brother soothes me with a gentle touch and some sweet words.

We take our time cleansing and pampering each other. We talk and laugh and even splash around a little like when we were kids; like when we were the only people in the world who mattered to each other. Afterwards, we kiss and dry each other off before migrating back to the bedroom.

In times like this - wrapped in Taehyung's arms, listening to his rhythmic breathing, feeling loved and content and getting closer to nodding off into peaceful slumber - I wonder why I even need Jungkook.

But that's just the thing:  _I don't know_ why I feel like I need him. I only know that I do.

The thought sours my lovely evening, and I drift to sleep feeling anxious and fretful.

 

* * *

 

 Copyright © 2017-2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


	3. Humble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Background about Kinsoo's miscarriage and her relationship with Hoseok is revealed. A family gathering takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings & Features: profanity; smoking; sci-fi elements; mentions of death, murder, and violence; mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage (very light and brief details); mentions of conception through incest; mention of a women’s health condition; mentions of domestic abuse/violence; infidelity; EXPLICIT INCEST; graphic sexual content (incestuous sex, public handjob/blowjob in a moving vehicle, some dirty talk); holiday celebration

##  **【Kinsoo’s POV】**

_He's a natural. Born to create..._ and _to kill._

The fresh corpse at my feet is another testament to the exceeding cleverness I have witnessed from Min Yoongi ever since I met him a little less than two weeks ago.

He made it look easy to jam the mouthpiece of the specially-made inhaler past the target's teeth and press down on the trigger. The man reflexively (predictably) gasped in shock, inhaling the noxious mist and ensuring himself an uncomfortable and terrifying death. It was all over in well under a minute, but I wonder if his life still had time to flash before his eyes.

When an autopsy is performed on the embezzling son of a bitch slumped ungraciously on the floor, it will show that he perished from asphyxia due to an asthma attack. Not exactly a  _common_  way to die in this day in age, but I am confident that it will not be questioned or investigated extensively. The secret ingredient that triggered his death will elude all scans and tests, but by the time the body is discovered here in his cushy office on Monday morning - no, not until  _Tuesday_  morning since Monday is Christmas - all traces of the drug in his system will be gone anyway.

Or so Yoongi explained to me.

“Nice work,” I congratulate in a serene tone. “Three days of prep for thirty seconds of execution. That's what I like.”

Yoongi keeps his piercing gaze fixed on the sightless eyes of our victim. “I'm glad you're pleased, Miss.”

“Take  _his_  inhaler out of his pocket and place it near his hand, like we discussed,” I instruct. “If it’s full, squirt out a few puffs first.”

We need to make it appear as though the man attempted to reverse the fatal attack on his respiratory system, as expected of someone known to be afflicted by asthma.

I watch Yoongi do as I say. The more I observe him, the more his talents remind me of a former agent of mine: Jung Hoseok.

Though the two men’s knowledge and skills are alike, personality-wise they could not be more different. Yoongi is quiet, calculated, cool. Hoseok was boisterous, impulsive, goofy. So far I have not heard Yoongi so much as chuckle under his breath, whereas Hoseok’s laughter is still clamoring around my head to this day. It would seem Yoongi does not entirely lack a sense of humor, however. Case in point: he had the gall to give himself the ridiculous codename  _“Suga.”_  Evidently he really took my “sugar and ice” analogy to heart. Well, that and it also amused him to teach me eight different uses for common household sugar that are a far cry from making cookies.

In any case, I try not to dwell on the similarities  _or_  the differences between Yoongi and Hoseok. I try not to think about Hoseok at all considering his death is still a sore spot in my poor excuse for a heart.

So, naturally, I cannot help but think of him nearly every day.

Two years ago, he and I were engaged to be married, and there was a fifty percent chance the child I was carrying was his. After we first met, it took three months of shameless flirting and bold advances for him to convince me to go out on a date with him.

While I will admit that his easy smile and laid-back outlook on life had an odd calming effect on me, Hoseok also had a way of grating on my last nerve like no other. He had a knack for saying the corniest things at the most inappropriate times. He laughed at all of his own jokes as though he were the greatest comedian who ever lived when really he was mediocre at best. And worst of all, his constant improvisation and lack of preparation for his missions made my mind itch. None of my reprimands did anything to humble him, either. He would always just smile brightly at me and say:  _"If you say so, Headmistress."_

If someone were to ask me the exact moment it happened, I would not be able to answer. I only know that at some point, not only had Hoseok gotten under my skin, he had also managed to burrow far enough in to touch my heart, showing me I still had one. It made no sense to agree to give him a chance, yet I did so willingly.

Tae had laughed when I told him I was going out on an actual date with our chemist, but he gave me his blessing anyway. By date three, my twin wasn’t laughing anymore, but he seemed sincere in his assurances that he was not perturbed by my new relationship, even after he knew we were sleeping together.

I had never had a lover other than Taehyung before. Being with Hoseok was like being a born-again virgin. We were clumsy and shy and giddy with each other in a way that Tae and I never were - not even during our first time. Hoseok and I had to learn each other’s bodies with fresh eyes and fingers, whereas I felt that I had already known my brother's every line and edge and curve my whole life. The new experience was thrilling to me in a way I did not expect. I would always tell myself:  _This is how people are in "normal" courtships._

I have always known in my bones that if soulmates exist in this world, Taehyung is mine. How could he not be? We were by each other’s side even before we were born. We have supported each other during our lowest points and ridden the blissful highs together. We know each other’s deepest secrets and shames and love each other anyway - unconditionally.

But with Hoseok, I felt like an average woman being romanced. He knew nothing of my grim past, but he was willing to love me anyway. The fact that someone else could possibly fall in love with me - someone other than the person who was  _born_  in love with me - was beyond touching. It was like a strange sense of validation of my worth as a human being.

It was a very confusing and riveting time in my life.

A short five months after our first date, Hoseok proposed to me on a quiet beach in a foreign country. It was cliché and cheesy, as I should have guessed would be his style. I knew what was happening from the second he got down on one knee and pulled the black velvet box out of his pocket, but I could not comprehend it.

He cracked a joke about how he would kill or die for me, and not just because it was his job, but because that’s how much I meant to him. He said more things that I know were romantic, but I could barely listen over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. Finally, in lieu of asking the classic,  _“Will you marry me,”_  he had said instead,  _“Kim Kinsoo, please do me the immense honor of being my wife.”_

My heart stopped in its tracks at the last word. The prospect of being this kind-lethal-silly-sexy-annoying-passionate man’s wife was positively frightening. Yet somehow I found myself a giggling, blubbering mess when I choked out a teasing,  _“If you say so, Hobi.”_  I couldn't even look at the hefty diamond when he slipped it onto my finger because his smile just then was so much more dazzling.

It’s funny how it all felt a lot like love. Though they do say falling can feel a lot like flying, until you crash... and I cratered. All that my courtship with Hoseok earned me was a lesson in humility and the knowledge that I can never bear children.

“Headmistress?”

The sound of Yoongi’s soft voice jolts me out of my reverie as though he had shouted.

“I-I'm sorry. What was that?”

“I said I just sent the coded message to RM to take care of the CCTV,” he repeats. “We’d better split and give him less work to do.”

He pockets his phone and the homemade murder weapon. I wonder if he will recycle the chemicals inside; that’s what Hoseok would certainly have done.

I take a few moments to make a final inspection of the scene. It’s a good thing I do because I notice a small but potentially critical detail.

“Put the inhaler closer to his other hand. He was left-handed.”

Yoongi clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and I take it for disappointment with himself rather than annoyance with me.

“Apologies, Miss. You told me that already.”

“That's why I'm here today,” I say by way of forgiveness. “But I won’t always be, so make sure to remember every detail and triple-check them.”

“Of course. I will.”

I check the time on the clock on the wall. “It  _is_  time to go, though. I have dinner plans.”

“With Mr. Imaginary?”

Ever since my first mention of Jungkook, Yoongi is convinced my boyfriend is much too good to be true. Who knows? He could be right about that.

I smile and say, “Yes. I'm actually meeting his parents for the first time tonight.”

I am not sure why I am disclosing this information with him, but the words are out before I can consider them.

“Oh? Should be... fun.”

I share his uncertainty but say no more about it. “Let’s get back to Headquarters. V is waiting for me.”

“Is he going with you?”

“Yes. Jungkook invited him.”

Yoongi allows himself a marginally wider smile than normal. “The more the merrier, eh?”

I sigh softly. “‘Tis the season.”

 

* * *

##  **【Taehyung’s POV】**

I flex my bottom lip outwards and blow my hair away from my face with a huff. My latest attempt to engage the other man in conversation has fallen as flat as the rest of them over the past fifteen minutes. His fingers continue scurrying over his keyboard and his eyes remain focused on the data he is inputting. Or rather, the data he is currently  _erasing_  for my sister.

Kinsoo should be back any minute now. This is her first time supervising Agent Suga out in the field, and this is his first execution mission for us. They have spent plenty of hours together in both her office and the lab, though. Kinsoo seems delighted with his abilities, and I have to agree his work is very efficacious - at least on paper. I am not yet sure how well it went in action today.

I slump deeper into the soft leather chair in RM's office and fling my legs over one of the arms, bored out of my mind. I never would have imagined I would actually be  _eager_  to go celebrate Christmas with a bunch of strangers. Strangers who will no doubt have a plethora of tedious anecdotes to draw from and fire at me the way people at family gatherings tend to do.

For now, I am stuck here at Headquarters until Kinsoo returns and we go pick up her boyfriend and his friend as she offered to do for them.

“Did it look like it went well?” I ask RM, giving my fruitless venture another chance.

“Did  _what_  look like it went well?”

I roll my eyes part way up into my skull. “The  _mission_. The one you said Kiki just finished. Didn't you watch the footage before you erased it?”

“Didn't need to,” he answers shortly, his tone equivalent to a shrug. “The Headmistress always does well.”

He is not wrong, but I wish he would humor me a little. After all these years, he still won’t act chummy with me.

“I figured that,” I sigh. “I'm curious how well the new guy did, though.”

This time he at least gifts me with a real shrug. “He's under the Headmistress’ tutelage. I’m sure he met or exceeded expectations and will continue to work well for us. Now if you don’t mind, I need to concentrate and make sure I’ve rewritten these timestamps correctly.”

I sigh again and resign myself to fiddling with the pendant around my neck just to have something to do. I am sure RM is right about the new guy - as long as Agent Suga does not fall in love with my sister. Or vice versa. The past has taught me that nothing good could come of that for anyone involved.

The day I saw Hoseok’s ring on Kinsoo’s finger was the day my necklace was stored away. Kinsoo had worn that necklace faithfully for eight years, just as I have worn hers, then suddenly it was replaced with a three carat diamond engagement ring. That transition, over everything else about their funny little relationship, was what finally worried me. It said that she was willing to make a lifetime commitment to the facade when I would have bet anything that she was only a month away from dumping him.

To thicken the plot even more in the drama that was (is) our life, Kinsoo also told me she was pregnant. I believed with every fiber of my being that the baby was mine, and I knew she did, too, but of course no one else could ever know or even think that. We considered it quite fortunate that even if the baby came out looking like me, it would also look exactly like her. The thought of having a miniature version of ourselves enraptured the side of me consumed by vanity. What a perfectly beautiful family we would make. The decent, sensible part of me resolved to be an infinitely better parent than either of mine had been - even if I had to be relegated to playing the uncle.

All of those lovely hopes were crushed when Kinsoo lost the peach-sized baby fourteen weeks into her pregnancy in a mess of blood clots and pulpy tissue. I realized then that it really was Hoseok’s all along. If it were mine, surely the universe would not have taken it from us. It wasn’t the first time I had to tell myself whatever I needed to in order to sleep at night.

Our resident physician determined the cause of the miscarriage was due to a defect in Kinsoo’s womb. Evidently her uterus is misshapen and unfit to bear a child to term. It was a miracle she carried a fetus as long as she did, in Dr. Kim’s expert opinion. In less than a minute, he extinguished Kinsoo’s optimism with two blunt answers to the questions at the forefront of her mind: No, surgery on her uterus is not an option, and no, she will never be able to conceive again.

She was devastated by the news - as was I - but our anguish seemed mild compared to the deep depression into which Hoseok spiraled down. He was inconsolable. He barely ate, he rarely slept, he never spoke. He grew distant from Kinsoo (the one person he  _should_  have been turning to for comfort) and hermitted himself inside his lab for days on end.

Until one day he decided he was personally taking on a hit for the first time in weeks just to test something new he had created. Kinsoo didn’t even ask him what it was. Instead of meeting his reappearance with encouragement, she begged him -  _ordered_  him - not to go. She reasoned that he was not stable enough to carry out a mission cleanly, but he would not hear of it. It was the first and only time I had ever seen them really argue.

I was between the two of them before the sound of his palm sweeping across her cheek had finished reverberating throughout the room.

 _“Go,”_  I said to Hoseok icily.  _“Before I hurt you in ways even_ you _haven't imagined.”_

I had the fingers of one hand tensed and ready to pluck out one of his eyeballs if he tried anything else foolish. My other hand was braced against Kinsoo’s hip to keep her behind me. I could feel her body trembling, but out of fear or rage, I did not know.

I like to imagine that in those several tense seconds that felt as though they had been stretched into several minutes, Hoseok had a sudden epiphany and finally realized the true extent of mine and Kinsoo’s relationship. But it is much more likely he died as the same ignorant fool he had been from the start. His amber eyes had revealed no hint of enlightenment, after all. He at least did the wise thing and heeded my advice. He left without a word or even one last glance over his shoulder.

Three hours later, Kinsoo and I were at the hospital because of multiple stab wounds he had sustained to his abdomen during the botched hit Kinsoo had predicted. In a way, I blamed myself for what happened. In my mind, it may as well have been me who killed him, just like with my father. It is no wonder Kinsoo has nightmares of being stabbed to death. I knew what I had done would haunt me forever, but I did not expect my demon to sink its claws into the lives of the people  _around_  me.

While my sister was indisposed from distress, sitting uselessly in the waiting room as the doctors and nurses did what little they could for her dying fiancé on the operating table, I paced back and forth across the dark parking lot and worked as best as I could with RM over the phone to preemptively clean up the impending shitstorm.

Hoseok managed to eliminate the target, but he fucked up by being taken to an emergency room instead of getting his sorry ass back to the medical ward at Headquarters as was protocol. That meant the hospital staff would have to get the police involved. It is required by law in this city for them to report all ailments and injuries that appear to have been sustained maliciously or by violent means to the authorities.

It would take weeks afterwards of dozens of uncomfortable phone calls to people I had never spoken with before, and thousands of dollars worth of bribes and paid favors for me to eventually get everything sorted and back to normal, but I did it all without complaint because it was for Kinsoo. She may not have been able to see past her grief at the time, but I knew when her mind cleared she would want her empire to be intact.

When I was temporarily able to leave matters in RM’s hands that night and return to the emergency department to check on Kinsoo, she was not in the waiting room where I had left her. After some searching that turned borderline frantic, I finally found her standing alone in the maternity ward on the third floor. She was staring through the wide window of the locked nursery at the rows of plexiglass cribs laden with newborns too unwell to room with their mothers, but it did not seem like she was truly seeing them. She looked detached.

_“Kiki…”_

Without turning and breaking her somber watch, she whispered,  _“He’s gone.”_

I nodded. She let me hug my arm around her waist and pull her close against my side. Eventually she surrendered her head to my shoulder. We stood there silently for a long time, gazing at the infants with the potential to become future siblings and lovers and murderers and chemists and everything in-between.

She insisted on taking the staircase instead of the elevator on the way back down to the first floor. It only took until the second for whatever stubborn determination was holding her together to break, and she collapsed to the floor in heavy sobs. She fought me when I tried to lift her back up, so I resolved to sit down and urge her into my lap to at least get her off the cold tiles.

It frightened me to see my authoritative, strong, fierce sister in that state. I didn’t know how to help her. After all, she should have already known something like this would happen. I could have advised her from the start that things could only end in heartache between her and Hoseok, but I know she would not have listened. I had to watch idly as her “normal” relationship burned into terrible conflagration. Though I suppose even if she knew the ending all along, it would not necessarily have made the experience hurt any less.

And now she has put herself in another senseless relationship that will only end in pain. It’s as if she has learned nothing at all. If she thinks she can keep Jungkook shielded from her volatile life, she is sorely mistaken. No one can escape fate, and fate dictates that she and I are the ones who ultimately belong together.

So, again, I will stand by and witness her new charade inevitably self-destruct.

A soft knock on the door does more to draw RM’s attention than any of my previous conversation starters.

He looks up straight away and calls: “Come in.”

My twin enters the room with the new guy close behind. Kinsoo’s eyes fall on me first as her assistant and I both get to our feet. She gives me the kind of tempered smile that says she is glad to see me, but there are others present so she is keeping her feelings in check. Then she directs her gaze to RM.

“All finished?” is all she asks him.

“Just this second, Miss,” he confirms promptly.

“Excellent. That’s all I came by to check on.” She turns back around to Agent Suga. “You’re dismissed for the weekend. And again - good work today.”

He bows his head slightly in return. “Thank you. But if it’s alright, I still need to document the use of the chemicals from today. And I have some other things I want to restock in the lab real quick. It should only take me twenty minutes tops.”

“That’s fine. Enjoy your holiday.”

“You as well, Miss.” Agent Suga nods to Kinsoo again, then to RM and me, and pads out of the room on silent footsteps.

“Are you ready to go?” Kinsoo asks me next.

“As I'll ever be, I suppose,” I sigh, forgetting about the eagerness that had spawned from my desperate boredom just moments earlier.

She smiles knowingly and bids RM a good holiday weekend. I do likewise and accompany her out of the room and out of the building.

When we get out to the parking lot, she suddenly stops to face me. She reaches up and tucks the golden K pendant out of sight into the neck of my sweater, then gives my chin a quick stroke with her thumb in a sweet, big sisterly manner.

“We can't raise any extra questions tonight,” she reminds me quietly. “Even ‘innocent’ ones lead to trouble.”

I dip my head to show I understand.

“I do appreciate you coming with me tonight, Tae," she continues kindly with a gentle squeeze to my wrist. “I know this whole situation is fucked up…”

I snort softly. “You got that right.”

“...but it means a lot to Jungkook,” Kinsoo finishes, ignoring my comment. “He's a sweet guy. I can do him this small courtesy.”

“I don't think meeting your boyfriend's family for Christmas is considered a  _small courtesy_ ," I argue with a smile. "And I can guarantee  _he_  doesn’t see it that way, either.”

She lets out a soft sigh. “That's probably true. Eventually I will stop stringing him along.”

“I know, Kiki.”

Yes, she and Jungkook  _will_  be over eventually, one way or another.

 

* * *

 

Kinsoo makes a point to swing by her house first so she can change into some fresh clothes, and I make a point to be the one behind the steering wheel as we get back on track to her boyfriend’s workplace.

“Why do you want to drive so badly?” she questions when she settles in the passenger seat.

I press the ignition button and say bluntly, “I’m hoping I’ll get some road head as an early Christmas present for doing this shit tonight.”

Kinsoo’s laughter comes out as a bark. “Wow,  _that_  was romantic.”

“Well what am I, your boyfriend?” I scoff. “Can  _he_  tell me the best way to ask you for a blowjob?”

“ _He_  doesn’t have to ask me for blowjobs,” she answers matter-of-factly in a pathetic attempt to sting me.

“He also doesn’t have to be dragged along to his sister’s boyfriend’s family’s Christmas.”

“Stop it. Don’t be petty. Come on, we have to pick up Jimin and Jungkook. I’m pretty sure their last session ends at seven, and we’re running late.”

“That’s why it’s  _road_  head, Kiki. I drive - you suck me off.” I grin slyly and add, “Unless you don’t think you can make me come before we get there?”

Presenting her with a challenge is a low blow, but I am confident she will take the bait.

“Or maybe I’ll purposely take you right to the edge just as we get to the studio and then leave you hanging.”

_Damnit. I never thought about that._

Kinsoo senses my qualm and laughs again. “Relax, Tae. I may be a cold bitch, but not to you.”

She slides a hand between my legs to cup my genitals tightly, and my breath loses its way in my throat at her sudden change of heart.

“Your idea  _does_  sound fun,” she murmurs. “We haven’t done that in ages. Do  _you_  think you can come in less than fifteen minutes, though? We’re not exactly teenagers anymore.”

As if in answer to her question, blood rushes to my dick to make it swell under her massaging fingers.

I shift the car into gear. “Yes. Just put the address in the GPS for me first.”

Kinsoo does as I say one-handedly, evidently unwillingly to let go of what she has a grip on in the other for even a moment. She was worried about people asking me what the  _K_  on my necklace stands for, yet here she is about to blow me in public. Her conflicting actions arouse me greatly. My pants quickly become uncomfortable, and my sister takes notice.

“So hard for me already. Does it hurt?”

I swallow and nod as I glance at the directions on the console screen, then flick on my signal and turn right.

“You want me to free your pretty cock?”

I nod again, acutely aware of how eager I must look.

“I bet I don’t even need to suck it,” she goes on calmly. “I bet I can make you come in less than fifteen minutes with just my hand. What do you think?”

Without waiting for my answer, she confidently cancels the navigation system to let me know I won’t be needing it because her mouth will  _not_  be too preoccupied to recite the directions I need. My foot jerks against the gas pedal when she suddenly unzips my fly.

“Don’t get us killed, Tae,” she chides gently. “And turn left at the light up here.”

I switch lanes and Kinsoo waits until I brake to a complete stop at the red light before reaching into my open trousers and releasing my straining erection. She secures her warm hand around the base to make it stand tall and straight. The guy in the souped-up muscle truck next to us could probably see everything if he looked this way for just a second, but he is too busy texting to see the show.

I let out a sigh and close my eyes for a moment to enjoy my lover’s touch.

“Tae, the light.”

I reopen my eyes to see the signal has turned green, and I hurriedly press the gas pedal again. Kinsoo giggles beside me.

“Does it still excite you to be jerked off in the car?” she asks me. “You like the risk of getting caught, don’t you?”

 _Clearly we_ both _like that risk, sweet sister. We run it nearly every day._

“Y-yes,” I whisper hoarsely. Before she can ask me to repeat myself (because she definitely will), I clear my throat and say with a bit more volume: “Yes, I like it. It excites me.”

Kinsoo hums in satisfaction. Her thumb presses against the slit in the tip of my dick to draw out a bead of wetness and smear it across my sensitive skin.

“Stay in the right lane,” she instructs casually.

I look over my shoulder before merging obediently, and Kinsoo thanks me by dragging her tight fist up and down my full length a few times. I wince a little at the dry resistance.

“Oh, did that hurt?” she coos.

“A little.”

Kinsoo  _tsks_  her tongue a few times in rapid succession. “That won’t do. Your pretty cock needs to be wetter, doesn't it? How ‘bout you spit on it for me.”

I recognize it as a command and not a question, but I still glance sideways at her for confirmation. She is still facing straight ahead.

“We only have about nine more minutes, Taehyung,” she reminds me when I take too long to respond. “Spit on your dick. Do it now while there is no one next to us.”

I tuck my chin down, gather a small pool of saliva in my mouth, then release it. Most of it lands on the head of my penis as I intended, but some of it catches on my pants and seeps into the fabric.

“Messy boy,” Kinsoo scolds with a firm squeeze to my shaft. “But I suppose you’re going to make a bigger mess soon, aren’t you?”

Without a doubt.I  _was_  counting on her to swallow it, but now I'm not sure that she will.

Except she immediately reads my mind again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” she assures me.

With a few twists of her wrist, she uses the spit I provided her with to lubricate my pulsing cock and make her work easier on both of us. The time constraint forces her to build up a steady rhythm without delay. My breathing quickens in time with her deliberate movements until it is nearly impossible to keep my mouth closed.

From the corner of my eye, I notice the woman in the car beside us giving me curious glances. I smirk but do not make eye contact. Instead, I accelerate to pass her.

“Feel better?” Kinsoo inquires.

“S-s-so good,” I stutter. I grip the steering wheel until the blood leaves my knuckles to keep my hands from shaking. “Don’t stop. I’m getting close already.”

“That’s good because we’re also getting close to Jungkook’s work,” Kinsoo mentions. “Turn right on the next street.”

As I follow her directions, I notice my legs have begun to quiver. I make sure to let the other cars either stay ahead of us or fall behind, but never maintain the same speed. Kinsoo increases her pace even more, blurring her hand along my length. My hips twitch with each pass of her fingers. The heat in my loins is growing quickly, but it may not be quickly enough.

“Maybe I miscalculated,” Kinsoo speaks my thoughts aloud, finally turning to look down at my lap. “Maybe I’ll have to suck you after all.”

“Yes,” I agree at once in a breathless voice. “It won’t take long now if you suck me. Let me come in your mouth.”

I expect to be met with some sass for not saying  _please_ , but instead I receive the mercy of my sister’s sweet lips wrapping around the head of my dick.

My hips buck instantly to try and sink myself deeper into her mouth. She traces her tongue along the vein on the underside of my cock as she takes me in. I reach the back of her throat before long, but she does not let that stop her descent. Her throat opens to welcome all of me.

“ _Ungh._  Yes, Kiki. Just like that,” I pant. I am still managing to navigate the street safely, but I have no idea if we are still on the correct path. Nor do I particularly care. Not when Kinsoo is swallowing my dick whole.

She resurfaces only to dive back down, over and over, recreating the earlier rhythm of her hand. The consistent, wet friction is just what I need. My balls tighten and so do the muscles in my legs as I suddenly release my cum into her mouth and down her throat. She makes a noise of surprise from the lack of warning.

“Thank you, thank you…” I groan with each spurt she swallows down.

When she straightens back up in her seat, I watch her swipe at a small trickle at the corner of her mouth and place the residue on her tongue. She winks at me and smiles.

Instead of commenting on what just happened, she reacclimates to her surroundings and says, “Take another right at the next light, then it’s the first building on the left.”

The quaint little dance studio is in a bit of a rough area of town that has not yet been gentrified. The real estate must be cheap. When I was sixteen, I would have arranged meetings with drug dealers in these alleyways and then graffitied the nearby library-slash-daytime-homeless-shelter without batting an eye, but I will be twenty-nine in a week, and the atmosphere makes my skin crawl now. Probably an odd way for someone whose career involves shady and brutal business to feel, but it is true. Maybe I am growing up.

I hurriedly tuck myself back into my pants after parking next to Jungkook’s recognizable old sports car, and Kinsoo takes a moment to reapply her lip balm and fish a breath mint out of her purse.

She tongues the mint into her cheek and asks, “Do you want to come in with me?”

“Of course. I’d love to see your boyfriend’s business.”

I know my sincerity is questionable, which is why Kinsoo is giving me an odd look now, but I really do admire the guy for running his own business. I imagine it’s one of the things  _she_  admires about him, too, considering it is something they have in common.

“Alright, come on then.”

I manage to keep the bounce out of my step as we walk side by side up to the front door. I do quicken my last few steps to open the door and let her in ahead of me, though. The humid heat of the small building hits us first, soon followed by the overpowering stench of sour sweat. Neither of us flinch, however; we have both experienced a lot worse.

Jungkook and another young man are at the front of the room, moving in perfect synchronization with each other. The group of people behind them is doing an impressive job at keeping up, but it is still easy to pick out the weaker dancers. One young lady in particular keeps dropping her gaze down to Jungkook’s butt so often that it is a wonder she has any brain power leftover to focus on her feet.

 _Chaeyoung_ , I gather immediately, recalling the name from the singular conversation I heard between Jungkook and Kinsoo nearly two weeks ago. She looks much younger than I would have thought.

While the horny teenager is ogling her handsome dance instructor,  _his_  eyes snap over to the door - or more specifically to my beautiful twin. The smile that spreads across his face is instant, sweet, and genuine, just like when a puppy reunites with its owner after a long day of being apart.

He stops dancing and signals for everyone else to do likewise. His partner looks at him in confusion until he follows Jungkook’s gaze and sees Kinsoo and I.

Kinsoo takes a step forward and gently shakes her hands in front of her in apology. “Oh, please don’t stop. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

She giggles as though embarrassed and I smirk in amusement. An hour earlier, she had a hand in a man’s murder, and now she is acting flustered over interrupting her boyfriend at work. Cute.

“No, no, sweetheart,” Jungkook soothes her. “You’re fine. I didn’t realize how late it was.” He looks at the watch on his wrist then turns to address his class. “We’ll end here, everyone. Excellent progress. See you all on Mon-  _Tues_ day. Enjoy your weekend. Merry Christmas!”

Everyone returns the sentiment and begins to migrate in different directions. Kinsoo and I move out of the way of the exit as some of them leave. Others head into the side rooms I presume to be the restrooms and changing rooms, including Jungkook’s partner.

Jungkook comes over and chooses to greet me first by clapping my hand in what passes for a young guy handshake, as if I am one of his buddies. He is in a good mood. Luckily, I am, too, and I deign myself to return his smile with equal enthusiasm.

Next he rounds on Kinsoo and threatens to draw her into a big hug meant to drench her in his sweat. She yelps and recoils playfully, acting just the way he wants her to, and Jungkook laughs as he settles for pecking her forehead.

 _Should’ve went for her mouth instead, buddy,_  I muse to myself.

He comments on how nice she looks and asks how her day was and other boyfriendly pleasantries that bore me. I gaze around and take notice of the girl I pegged as Chaeyoung again. She seems to be taking her time dragging her feet on her way out so she can scan Kinsoo from top to bottom.

Poor thing.

She is a pretty girl - round face, heart-shaped lips, sweet hazel eyes - but Jungkook only has eyes for my sister, who coincidentally has to be the one to call the girl out.

“Did you need Jungkook?” Kinsoo asks sweetly. She beckons the girl closer with a motion of her hand. “Come on over, honey. I don’t mean to hog him. You can have him for a minute.”

 _She’s killing me tonight._  I suppress another grin and take a deep breath to keep from laughing aloud. Clearly Kinsoo is aware of who the girl is, but I am not sure if they have ever officially met.

“Ah, Chaeyoung,” says Jungkook when he finally turns to acknowledge her. He waves her over as well and she un-sticks her feet from the floor to obey him. “Yes, please come meet my girlfriend: Kinsoo. And this is her brother: Taehyung. Guys, this is Chaeyoung.”

I reach out to take Chaeyoung’s hand and she returns the grip with all the strength of a baby bird.

“So nice to meet you,” I tell her in a saccharine tone.

“Y-you, too,” she squeaks. Her expression becomes that of the classic doe-caught-in-headlights when her eyes unwittingly meet my smoldering stare. ( _Jungkook who?_ ) I could make her stand on her head this very second if I wished, but just the knowledge that I could is enough.

I break our gaze - and the trance - and she immediately switches to look at Kinsoo.

“And you, too, of course,” she practically whispers.

“Absolutely,” Kinsoo agrees pleasantly. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. Jungkook has told me more than once or twice about how talented you are.”

The mention that Jungkook has spoken of her outside of this place renders Chaeyoung speechless, not to mention absolutely scarlet. This information will surely make her cling to her infatuation even tighter. This morsel of attention will be enough to help feed those hopes of one day winning Jungkook from my sister.

Before she can come up with anything at all to say in reply, Jungkook’s partner comes to join us, and Chaeyoung smartly recognizes that she is the odd person out in our crowd. She mumbles some hasty goodbyes and leaves us.

“Well  _she_  sure left in a hurry. What lies did you tell her about me  _now_ , Kook?” the newcomer jokes.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but otherwise ignores the question.

“Babe, you remember Jimin,” he says to Kinsoo.

“Of course. Good to see you again, Jimin.”

She cups the hand he offers her in both of hers, and he smiles at her politely.

“Always a pleasure, Kinsoo.”

The way his eyes slide over my sister is interesting. He is attracted to her, that much is clear, but there is a glint of something else: distaste or mistrust, perhaps. If so, he is a lot smarter than Jungkook, who is blinded by worship.

I love my twin sister - truly, deeply, and in every aspect of the word. And I know I certainly revere her to a degree. But I am also painfully aware that she is not a perfect person. Not in the way Jungkook thinks she is. If he learned even a sliver of her past, he would not be able to play the sweet, supportive, comforting boyfriend. He would be disgusted and appalled. He would turn tail and run away as fast as he could.

Depending on the nature of their inevitable breakup, he may yet do just that.

The studio soon empties of its occupants, including the four of us once Jungkook has changed into some dry clothes. He makes sure to lock up behind us before we collectively make our way to Kinsoo’s car. After a game of polite insisting and declining between the two of us, I convince Jungkook to sit up front beside his girlfriend. I figure Kinsoo will appreciate the gesture.

“Will you put in the address for me, please, baby?” Kinsoo asks of him, taking a second to tap a sharp fingernail against the GPS console in-between fiddling with the knobs to heat the air of the vehicle.

“Yeah, of course.”

When Jungkook turns it on, the GPS asks if we are still on our way to where we are already located.

“You still needed to put in this address?” Jungkook questions with a puzzled smile at my sister. “You’ve been here, like, five times, and you remember  _everything_ , babe.”

“Taehyung drove,” she answers him.

“I mean, you were here with him, though, right?” he points out.

A half-second goes by.

“He wanted to see a map of the area,” she lies in clarification. “So I just put in the studio’s address for a point of reference. He didn’t find anything interesting, though.”

“Ah, okay then.” He believes her because he has no reason to doubt her. Ignorance really can be bliss. He cranes his head to look at me in the backseat and says, “If you ever want, Taehyung, I can show you some really cool dive bars in this neighborhood.”

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

“Sure. I’ll let you know if I’m in the area again,” I answer noncommittally.

Jungkook inputs the new destination and the GPS gives an ETA of thirty-five minutes from now.

Welp, might as well get a jump on the smalltalk.

“So, Jimin,” I begin as Kinsoo pulls onto the main road. “Your dance skills are quite impressive. Have you been dancing long?”

“Ever since I was ten,” he answers, turning away from his window to look at me. “Kook, too. We always wanted to open our own dance studio someday.”

I grin. “And now you have.”

“Yup.” He nods and smiles back. “We’re literally livin’ the dream.”

“Have you and your team ever entered any competitions?” I go on. It is always better to be the one  _asking_  the questions than answering them, in my experience.

Jimin shakes his head now. “Not yet. There  _is_  one we’re competing in in March, though. The judges are all big shot celebrities. It might give some of our crew the chance to get noticed and recruited to join some actual well-known dance teams. Maybe make a nice career out of dancing.”

“Do you have ambitions of getting recognized by a celebrity?”

He chuckles at me. “Recognized, sure. But not recruited. I already have a dancing career. I like where I am. And I definitely don’t want to leave my beloved dance studio behind. Kook would never be able to run it by himself.”

“Hey, I heard that back there,” says Jungkook in the middle of his conversation with Kinsoo.

Kinsoo twists her head around to look over at us and giggle, only to be gently scolded a second later.

“Babe, the light,” says Jungkook quickly to draw her attention back to the road.

She brakes hard at the red light’s command and throws her arm out to keep her passenger from falling into the dashboard. It is a knee-jerk reaction she has done to me a million times, and I to her. Jungkook finds the action amusing.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I won’t break,” he laughs. He takes her hand and presses half a dozen kisses to her fingers. “And I’m not going anywhere, either.”

 

* * *

 

Jungkook’s boyhood home - as well as Jimin’s next door - sits in a nice, quiet subdivision. It is not nearly as upscale as Kinsoo’s, and I would bet that the rent on my condo is equal to a month and a half’s worth of the mortgage payment, but it is still respectable (if you ignore the garish display of Christmas lights adorning the roof and windows and shrubbery, that is).

Compared to mine and Kinsoo’s childhood home, it is downright grand.

Our family never had such traditions as decorating or hosting dinners with friends. Our rituals consisted of eating our scant microwaved meals as quickly as possible in the haven of one of our bedrooms and turning the volume up on our music to try to drown out the shouting and the hitting in the other rooms. It was considered a happy holiday if our father passed out early and allowed our mother to go to work the next morning without a limp.

I could be wrong, but I bet Jungkook’s father has never even uttered a harsh word towards his mother, much less punched her in the gut. And I bet Jungkook has never been backhanded across the face so hard two of his baby teeth sprung right out of his gums, either.

Kinsoo parks the car along the street with a chipper announcement of: “We’re here!”

“Thanks again for driving us, babe,” says Jungkook. “And for coming tonight, of course. You, too, Taehyung.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” I respond as expected, and Kinsoo gives me a small smile of approval.

The front door of the house swings open before Jungkook can finish knocking. A middle-aged woman stands there and beams at him, then flings her arms around him enthusiastically, almost smacking my sister’s face in the process.

“Jungkookie!” she greets happily. “Ah, it seems like you got thinner. I had a feeling that would be the case. Good thing I tripled the recipes for tonight, even after accounting for the extra guests.”

“Hi Mom.”

Jungkook returns the hug and smiles with that hint of exasperated embarrassment that comes from having a parent who is too affectionate in front of company. Not that I personally have any experience with that, of course. It is just something I have noticed from years of people-watching.

When his mother peels away, she goes for Jimin next.

“Hello, Chim,” she says with her hands cupping his round cheeks. “Your parents are already here, love. I was sorry to hear your brother couldn’t make it, though.”

Jimin hums in acknowledgement. “He’s with his in-laws all weekend.”

“Everyone is away!” exclaims Mrs. Jeon. “My own parents - a couple in their  _seventies_ , mind you - decided to vacation somewhere tropical for the next  _two months_! Can you believe it? It’s just us parents and you kids here tonight.”

They continue exchanging their dull stories and pleasantries while Kinsoo and I wait patiently to be introduced.

“Mom,  _this_  is Kinsoo,” Jungkook declares at the first opportunity, and there is no mistaking the pride in his tone.

“Ah. Well, you did say she was older than you, but I didn’t imagine she would actually have silver hair,” jests Mrs. Jeon without filter.

“ _Mom!_ ” whines her son. He moves to stand behind his girlfriend and run his fingers through the hair in question. “I think it looks good. Sexy, even.”

Kinsoo smiles and leans into Jungkook’s touch as she looks up at him, and he kisses the top of her head lovingly.

“Oh, I don’t debate that,” concedes Mrs. Jeon, eyeing the display of affection with a mother’s wariness. She meets Kinsoo’s eyes and says graciously, “I  _am_  delighted to meet you, dear. Truly. You must be someone very special indeed. Jungkook has spoken nothing but praise about you.”

Kinsoo giggles. “He’s the sweetest thing. I’m so glad to meet you, too, Mrs. Jeon.”

Mrs. Jeon’s gaze lands on me next. “And you must be her brother. Jungkook said you would be joining us. My goodness, you and Kinsoo look  _exactly_  alike, right down to the silver hair.”

“We get that a lot,” I reply a bit tiredly but not unkindly as I shake her hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

“They’re twins,” Jungkook inputs helpfully like the kind, brilliant lad he is.

“Oh? Well you didn’t mention  _that_  part, Kookie. How rare and wonderful! I wonder if Jungkook and his brother would have gotten along better if they had been born twins. They fought so much as children. Sometimes I think that’s why Junghyun moved so far away.”

She sighs a bit wistfully, so I make a light joke.

“Who says Kinsoo and I get along?”

She tosses her head back and laughs. “Oh, you’re a scamp, aren’t you? I bet you’re the younger one...”

She chatters on (mostly to herself) about her children as she leads us all inside. The home is toasty and heavy with the smell of cooking food, and I can hear people in other rooms joking and laughing happily over background music.

I never experienced the sounds of Christmas carols or general merriment within my own house during this time of year - only the sounds of profanity, skin striking skin, heavy stumbling, and then vomiting when our father finally had too much eggnog. The scents of cinnamon and ham and pine needles never graced my home, either. Cigarette smoke, sweat, and stale takeout were what polluted my air - but that wasn’t just during the holidays, it was year-round.

I take a moment to ponder how different mine and Kinsoo’s lives would be right now if someone like Mrs. Jeon had been our mother. Someone kind and observant and devoted to her family. I have no doubt our actual mother tried her best - I mean, Kinsoo and I never  _died_ , after all - but she rarely made an effort  _to_  try, and her best was ultimately pathetic. She did not raise us; we raised ourselves. Whether or not we turned out OK is debatable, but we have certainly overcome and accomplished a lot, and I would not alter a second of our sordid history.

Next I take a moment to scope the place, and I am sure Kinsoo is doing the same thing: checking the exits/entrances and the types of locks they have equipped, scanning the rooms for anything valuable that could be pocketed, memorizing the layout of the furniture and taking note of each creaky spot in the floor under our feet. We certainly do not plan on stealing from these people or doing anything else criminal with our observations, but it is such an old and automatic habit of ours whenever we enter a new place for the first time.

And when we are introduced to the rest of the guests - Jungkook’s father and Jimin’s mother and father - we immediately commit their names and faces to memory. They are each as welcoming as the last person. The cheeriness is practically cloying.

Kinsoo and I learn that Jungkook’s father is a pilot and his mother is a secretary at a law firm. Jimin’s father is an obstetrician and his mother runs a daycare. All information that is practically worthless but clogged in our minds all the same now.

We soon begin dinner, but mouths full of food do little to stifle the conversation.

“I’m so happy you all could come tonight,” Mrs. Jeon addresses the group. “I would have done this on Christmas Day but Daehyun and I have a plane to catch tomorrow to visit Junghyun for a week.”

Mrs. Park waves her fingers in forgiveness. “I understand completely. We’re grateful you’re hosting Christmas dinner at all. So kind of you to do this two years in a row...”

The mothers speak amongst themselves at their end of the table, and the questions begin at the other.

“So Taehyung, what do  _you_  do for a living, son?” Jungkook’s father asks me from across the table while he slices the ham on his plate into neat pieces.

“Actually, Kinsoo and I work together,” I start, glancing at her beside me and giving her arm a little nudge. “At the facility on Ashton, about an hour from here.”

“Oh, I think I know where you’re talking about. That government sanctioned place?” says Mr. Jeon with intrigue. “How interesting. I’ve always wondered what that place was exactly. What do you two do there?”

“I’m afraid we can’t elaborate, sir,” Kinsoo cuts in politely, probably not trusting my discretion. She winks at him and adds, “Top secret business.”

“Nothing dangerous, I hope?” chuckles Mr. Jeon.

“Nah. Nothing dangerous, sir,” I lie in confirmation.

“ _Better_  not be dangerous,” Jungkook reiterates from across Kinsoo. They share a smile.

“Wait, you mean  _you_  don’t even know what your girlfriend does all day?” Jimin chimes in from Jungkook’s other side.

“No!” Jungkook exclaims rather believably. “She just said: it's top secret stuff.”

“It’s all very routine and tedious, I promise,” says Kinsoo dismissively. “You’d be surprised by how boring most of my days are.”

“Boring can be good sometimes. But are you  _satisfied_  with what you do?” asks Mr. Jeon.

“Very,” Kinsoo and I affirm in harmony.

Mr. Jeon smiles and shakes his head. “Twins. How often do you do that? Say something at the same time, I mean? Or finish each other's sentences?”

“Probably not any more than average siblings,” shrugs Kinsoo. “But we do seem to  _think_  about the same things often. There have been lots of times when I’ll be talking to Taehyung on the phone and he’ll bring something up, and it’ll be something that I was randomly thinking about earlier that day, or vice versa.”

This is true. I wonder if she was thinking about Hoseok’s death today, too. For her sake, I hope not.

Jungkook’s father jokes with Jimin’s father about whether or not research has shown twins to be mentally linked yet. Kinsoo and I laugh along with the braying mules. They have no idea that we are so close we don’t need to  _hear_  each other’s thoughts to know what the other is thinking.

Some time between dinner and dessert, I excuse myself to step outside for a moment. I take a seat on the modest wooden porch swing hung up on the frigid front deck and smoke a much needed cigarette in three drags.

Just as I light a second, the front door opens behind me, and my sister joins me. I give her the lit cigarette unsolicited and produce a third for myself.

“Thanks again,” says Kinsoo as she sits down beside me, her breath steaming in front of her. “For being here with me tonight.”

“You’re welcome, Kiki. Just promise you won’t make me do this again next year.”

She laughs and nods her head. “I promise. Once is enough. This shit is exhausting, isn’t it? Having to smile and be polite and pretend to be interested. Everyone is nice but so  _boring_  and predictable. It’s terrible to say, but it makes me glad we don’t have any family of our own anymore. I’m glad it’s just the two of us.”

“I agree completely.”

I want to mention that it would have been nice to have been able to  _make_  a family of our own, but that would be unnecessarily callous of me, and I don’t want to upset her. Not when we still have plenty more smiling and pretending to do tonight.

“I can’t wait ‘til we get back to my place and celebrate Christmas like we always do,” she goes on. “Eating takeout, watching movies, fucking for hours.”

“Mm. Me too. That sounds like Heaven.”

Kinsoo and I lock eyes - emerald against emerald. Just then, a short lifetime of pain and love and endurance hangs invisibly but palpably between our gaze, and I remember why I am here and why I have always been willing to share her with another man. I will tolerate anything so long as it helps her present and her future be happier than our past.

I lean in, but my twin humbles my bold move with a hand to my chest. After checking the door and windows, she moves her hand to pull me in so she can peck the corner of my mouth. Her lips linger, though, and after a moment’s pause, she advances again. She keeps her eyes open and fixed on mine as our mouths move fluidly over each other’s. Her desire to kiss me this way at this location is surprising. It gives me a sense of reassurance that I did not know I was craving.

After just a few seconds, we hear footsteps approaching from inside the house, and we break apart like two teenagers about to be caught by their parents.

“There you are, sweetheart,” declares Jungkook when he steps out to join us. He tucks his hands into his pockets and hunches his shoulders up. “It’s freezing out here. Whatcha doing?”

“Smoke break,” Kinsoo answers simply. She goes to show him the cigarette in her hand as proof, but the cherry is long gone. She snorts at the discovery. “Well, it  _was_  a smoke break until I started yapping Tae’s ear off.”

Her lies and half-truths come so easily with Jungkook. She has been lying to people her whole life, so he should not be any exception, but it still makes me wonder if she truly feels anything at all for him. I almost feel sorry for the clueless guy.

Jungkook smiles and lifts his hands back out of his pockets to offer them to her and pull her up off the swing.

“Come back inside and sit by the fireplace with me while we eat some pie,” he implores, curling his sinewy arms around her. His brown puppy eyes twinkle brightly in the glow of the decorative lights.

I imagine it will hurt Kinsoo quite a bit when the time comes when he no longer looks at her that way. But long after that heartache comes to pass, she will still have me.

“Sure, baby,” she consents.

He turns away but keeps one hand cupped around hers to lead her back inside, and she takes one of my hands in turn to keep me by her side as well, physically manifesting our abominable little love triangle.

For what feels like the hundredth time today, I wonder when Jungkook will notice.

 

* * *

 

 Copyright © 2018-2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


	4. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old acquaintance of Kinsoo’s makes an appearance and a proposition, forcing her to think on where her priorities lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings & Features: profanity; smoking; sci-fi elements; mentions of murder; mentions of domestic abuse; brief mentions of using animals for experimentation; mentions of infidelity; mentions of explicit incest; graphic sexual content (dirty talk, unprotected penetrative sex, squirting, creampie); super soft Jungkook; appearance by Hyuk of VIXX
> 
> ***AS OF MARCH 15, 2019: LEE SEUNGHYUN ('SEUNGRI' OF BIGBANG) HAS BEEN REPLACED BY HAN SANGHYUK ('HYUK' OF VIXX)

##  **【Kinsoo’s POV】**

_The days hemorrhage into the next._

Weeks pass in a series of sunrises that bleed into sunsets. The seconds tick into the minutes that grow into hours. The normal clockwork seems to fly by, although nothing of note occurs.

More mornings than not, I wake up beside a man who would be beyond devastated to discover the degree of betrayal I am committing behind his back. He smiles and kisses me and tells me he loves me before I leave each day. I wish the tender words I say to him in return would stick in my throat and choke me the way justice should demand, but they always grease past my lips with ease.

While at work, I meet with clients to decide whether or not their problems deserve the help I have to offer. About one in three are judged as worth my while and my resources, which Namjoon has deemed an unacceptable ratio. He promises again and again to tighten his already meticulous scouting process even more.

In the afternoons, I like to spend as many of my lunches with my brother as possible when he is not in the field. When I am feeling particularly affectionate, I will keep my arm linked in his as we stroll along sidewalks since hand-holding is “too intimate.” Our looks are a dead giveaway of our “foremost” relationship, and we know how quick people are to judge. We would surely receive stares ranging from mild curiosity to downright disgust just by interlocking our fingers. My twin has always been the most significant person in my life, but it is not appropriate for him to wear the title of my  _Significant Other_.

My evenings are spent either with my brother inside me and wishing that we were the only two people in the world, or cuddling with my boyfriend and wondering if I want more from our relationship than the approving looks of endearment we get while holding hands in public.

That is my usual daily life.

And as per usual, I awaken before Jungkook. I blink my eyes open and am fully alert in a second. In front of me, Jungkook’s lips are parted and he is snoring softly with his neck craned against the pillow at a bit of an awkward angle.

I shift back on the mattress to get a better view of his vulnerability. The heavy blankets on top of him do nothing to contour his muscular frame. They make him look misleadingly small and frail with the way they threaten to swallow him. I smile widely for a moment, then become a little forlorn.

For close to a year now, I have enjoyed the company of this fine young man. I only meant it to be for the one night, but he was so irresistibly kind and gentle, I could not bring myself to deny seeing him again (and again and again and again). The way he looked at me was Hoseok all over again.

I knew (I  _still_  know) that getting attached to Jungkook was (is) not a good idea, but ever since my first taste of an actual romance, I have been pining for more. Even after the bitter end with Hoseok, I still craved the sweetness that had come before. The normalcy. I reasoned with myself that the root of the problem was getting involved with a fellow assassin. I should have gone for someone with an “average” job.

Telling Jungkook the truth about my chosen profession did not do as much to alleviate the weight of secrets I carry as I thought it would. I thought if I revealed  _that_  major secret to him, I would feel less remorse about the infidelity, but I don't. If anything, the guilt has doubled. Some days I feel guiltier towards Jungkook, other days Taehyung’s side of the scale tips.

Today will be a Jungkook-sympathetic day. I know that just from the sight of his sleepy, syrupy eyes fluttering open.

“How long have you been watching me?” he asks with a slightly self-conscious smile when he notices my stare. He digs the heel of his palm into one of his eye sockets to remove the slumber.

Rather than answering his question, I return with one of my own. “Did you dream of anything?”

He purses his lips in thought and closes his eyes again as if to check if his mind’s images are still displayed there against his eyelids. “Yeah, I think I did. But I can never remember my dreams. They're always gone the second I wake up.” He opens his eyes again. “What about you?”

I shake my head. “None.”

Jungkook sweeps my hair away from my face with gentle fingers.

“No nightmares either?” he presses.

Another shake of my head.

“That’s good,” he murmurs. “Seems like it’s been a while since you’ve had  _the_  nightmare, you know?”

 _I had it just last week while Taehyung was in your spot,_  I don’t say to him. I just nod my head.

Jungkook hums and edges closer to tangle me in the sheets and his arms. He plants a soft kiss on my lips, followed by another, and another, until he has effectively drawn a grin onto my face.

“We should play hooky today,” he suggests into my mouth. “Let’s take a break from nightmares and real life and spend the day doing whatever we want together.”

I giggle lightly. “That  _does_  sound like it would be nice, doesn’t it?”

“I’m serious.” One of his hands glides along the curve of my bare body repeatedly, from the side of my breast down to my hip and back up again as he speaks. “We should go out and get scones for breakfast from that bakery you like on eighth street. And then we can go catch a matinée movie, or maybe we could rent some bikes and ride around a park if it’s not  _too_  cold. And then we can stop at the market on the way home to pick up steaks. I’ll make  _you_  dinner for once.”

“Wow, you’ve already got the whole day planned, huh?” I tease.

“Does that mean you’re onboard?” he smiles back hopefully. “Seriously, one text to Jimin and my whole day is free. We don’t have to do any of that stuff if you don’t want to, either. We can just bum around the house all day or whatever. Whatever you want.”

“Your competition is coming up really soon, though,” I bring up. “Won’t Jimin be mad if you’re not there to help make sure everyone is in top form?”

Jungkook scrunches one side of his face up as if I just said the most ridiculous thing in the world, and I laugh.

“Nah,” he scoffs. “One day won’t hurt, and honestly I’d say we’re ready for the competition  _yesterday_. Besides, Jimin can fuck off if he has a problem with it. I want to spend time with my girl today.”

He pecks my forehead as if to reiterate that I am the girl in question, then fixes me with his best pleading look.

The difference between my boyfriend’s captivating gaze and my brother’s is that with Jungkook, people cannot deny him because they genuinely want to make him happy; with Taehyung, people genuinely believe that his interests are also  _their_  best interests, so declining would simply be foolish.

It  _would_  feel nice to spend the day making Jungkook happy. I am not a  _complete_  monster; I  _do_  care about him.

“Let me just send a quick message to my assistant and then I’m all yours for the day, baby,” I finally answer.

His pure, instant happiness is enough to temporarily push away my thoughts on how this is probably only priming him for greater heartbreak in the end.

“Really? Great!”

Like the modern couple we are, we click our thumbs against our phone screens to send text messages to our respective parties, then sling the devices away again.

“So does all the stuff I mentioned sound okay, or-”

I place a finger over Jungkook’s lips to silence him.

“Before we do anything else, I want you to make love to me,” I whisper.

So he does.

Every caress of his fingers, every soft breath he fans onto my skin, every undulation of his hips serves to raise us both to a quivering, blissful high. He moans my name lovingly when he spills inside me. Afterwards, as he is spooning me closely from behind, I feel an unbidden tear escaping the corner of my eye. I wipe it into my pillow before he can notice.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my  _God_ , this was a great idea,” I exclaim after just the first bite of my maple, oat, and pecan scone.

Jungkook chuckles as he blows on his steaming cup of tea. “You’re so cute when you get happy over little things.”

His complimentary observation makes my cheeks flush.

“And even cuter when you blush,” he adds with another happy laugh.

“Thanks,” I mutter, pleased but embarrassed.

My phone vibrates on the table between us and the screen advertises a new text notification from Taehyung. I ignore it and continue chewing my late breakfast.

“Aren’t you gonna check that?” Jungkook asks before taking a large bite of his blueberry and lemon cream scone.

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s Tae. He’ll call if it’s important.”

Jungkook bobs his head in understanding. “How  _is_  Taehyung? I haven’t seen him in a while. Not since Christmas, I guess it’s been.”

“He’s doing well. He’s out of town for a few days on business.” I watch Jungkook nod again, then I ask, “How’s  _your_  family?”

“Pretty good. My dad called me while I was at work the other day. Freaked me out because I thought there was an emergency since he  _knew_  I was at the studio, but it turned out he only accidentally dialed me because he  _still_  can’t work his smartphone properly. Ugh. But I still ended up talking to him and my mom for, like, fifteen minutes anyway.”

I smile faintly at his cute story.

“That’s nice. I don’t think either of my parents ever called me whenever I was out of the house, accidentally  _or_  on purpose,” I contribute to the domesticity of our conversation, realizing only  _after_  I speak how angsty that sounds.

“No?” Jungkook tilts his head curiously, and I know he very much wants me to continue.

I rarely ever talk about my parents with him, and when I do, I only give him scraps before backing away from the subject. Early in our relationship, I told him a trite tale of how they died long ago in a car accident. The added bit about my father being drunk behind the wheel felt like I was adding partial truth to the story, in my twisted mind.

“Nah. They never cared where I was.”

“That’s a shame,” sympathizes Jungkook because he thinks that is what I want to hear.

I just laugh. “Not really. My mother had no interest in knowing me, and I had no interest in knowing her. And my father was a drunk jerk who-”

I cut off my uncharacteristic outburst of honesty, but I know I have already said too much for Jungkook to let me off the hook.

“He what, sweetheart?” he coaxes gently.

I take my time brushing the crumbs off my side of the table and into my napkin while avoiding his gaze. Finally, I take a deep breath and make the plunge.

“He was abusive. He hit my mother. A lot. Sometimes he hit Taehyung. He hit me a few times.”

My loving boyfriend’s eyes widen predictably and his jaw falls loose at my revelation. Something tugs on my heart, and I wonder if it is because  _his_  seems to be dropping into his stomach. Could they really be so connected?

“Oh,  _sweet_ heart…” he starts. His hands surge forward to take mine. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I don’t… Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

I give his fingers a reassuring squeeze because he is clearly more upset than I am. His eyes are coated with glass, and I fear he may even shed some tears.

“It’s fine,” I assure him quietly. “I mean, it was awful, but it helped make me who I am today, so I guess I’m kind of grateful.”

His lips tug in a wan smile. “Well, I think you’re a  _wonderful_  person, Kinsoo.”

I snort softly. “That’s highly debatable, but thank you, baby.”

“You  _are_ ,” he insists. “You’re the best person I know. You’re so smart and so strong and so beautiful, inside and out. Really. And I know you’re a grown woman now who can take care of herself, but I promise I will never let  _anyone_  hurt you like that again.”

The notion is laughable - after all, there is no protection he can offer me that I do not already possess - but his words are still appreciated.

“I don’t deserve you,” I blurt. Another sad and truthful statement.

“Ah, don’t say that,” he chides with a smile. “The only way you don’t deserve me is if I don’t make you happy, but I think that I do. If I ever  _stop_  making you happy, either tell me how I can fix it or leave me.”

My throat tightens and my heart jumps.

“You do make me happy, Jungkook,” I admit in a pinched voice.  _That’s exactly why I haven’t left you already. But why,_ why _did I have to let this become a romance instead of just a friendship?_

“I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart.” He kisses the backs of both my hands. “That’s all I want. So enough sad talk, huh? I’m sorry I started it. Let’s talk about what movie we’re going to see today.”

“How about that new action thriller?” I suggest at once.

He grins brightly. “You read my mind.”

No sooner do we slide into my car than my phone buzzes again with an incoming phone call. I grunt in annoyance at the interruption and pull it from my pocket. The earlier message from Taehyung draws my attention first (a coded text about the progress of his mission, which looks to be going smoothly from the short snippet I can see), but he is not the one calling me right now.

“Taehyung again?” assumes Jungkook.

“No, it’s my assistant…” I trail off slowly. This cannot be good news. I reluctantly swipe the screen and answer, “Namjoon? What is it?”

“Apologies, Miss. I know you said you wouldn’t be in today, but Mr. Han is here requesting to speak with you. Today. In person.”

Definitely not good news.

“ _God damnit_ ,” I curse under my breath. “Okay. Alright. Thank you, Namjoon. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I hang up and groan. It seems that even on a day when Taehyung is out of town and Jungkook has me all to himself, I  _still_  have to leave him to go kiss another man's ass.

“Have to go, babe?” Jungkook asks casually, but I can sense his disappointment.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, baby. I know today was supposed to be about us spending time together, but something’s come up and I really need to handle it now.”

“It’s okay, I understand. You wanna drop me off at my place then, or...?”

I think for a moment, then decide, “How about you come with me while I drop myself off at Headquarters instead? Then you can take my car to go pick up those steaks. Don’t worry about picking me up later, I’ll catch another ride home and meet you for dinner like we planned. I promise I won’t let this business keep me late.”

 

* * *

 

 

The guard at the gate eyes Jungkook curiously in the passenger seat but lets us through without a word.

“Sorry again for ruining our day together,” I apologize when I park the car.

“What? Today isn’t ruined, babe,” he comforts me kindly. “Everything’s fine. We still have tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I tell him with a smile as I hand over my house and car keys. “Here. Feel free to go see the movie without me. And after you run to the store, you can stay at the house the rest of the day if you like.”

“Cool.” He beams boyishly. “I’ll handle dinner, you go take care of what you need to take care of, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”

He reaches to hold the back of my head in his palm as he grants me his usual parting kiss. I return it with a bit more gusto than called for, trying to convey my apologies yet again. I feel his lips curl when he gets the message.

“Love you,” he calls after me when I climb out.

“Bye, baby.”

I wave until he vacates the parking lot and drives out of sight, then I don a stricter expression to prepare for the company I am about to face.

Not counting the ever-present guards, Namjoon is the first person to greet me. His face is tighter than usual.

“Headmistress.” There is a hint of relief in his greeting. “Mr. Han should be up in your office. He insisted on waiting for you there.”

“Of course he did. Thank you, Namjoon.”

I ascend to the top floor in the elevator and make my way to my office briskly.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” I say the moment I enter the room, before my eyes have even landed on the imposing man. “I wasn’t expecting a visit today.”

The slim man behind my desk swings his polished shoes off of it and rises from his cozy perch, not bothering to rebutton his navy suit jacket over the crisp black shirt underneath. His smile of false forgiveness does not reach those deceptively serene eyes of his; they are the glassy surface of a winter lake - beautiful to gaze upon, but capable of chilling down to the bone when dipping past the surface. His deep merlot-colored hair is tousled and parted slightly off-center; a dapper and modern style for a man young and wealthy. I can smell the money he spent on his cologne many paces before I reach him.

“No need to apologize, Kinsoo,” Han Sanghyuk drawls in his rich voice as he crushes my hand. “It’s such a pleasure to see you again. It’s been a while.”

I nod stiffly. “Yes, sir, it has. Should we take a seat and catch up? Would you like a cigarette?”

He accepts both my proposals. To my surprise, he even migrates to the other side of my desk to let me claim my own chair. How considerate of him.

“So, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise of a visit?” I ask when we settle in, savoring the sweet nicotine before blowing the smoke from the side of my mouth.

He crosses his slender legs fitted in matching navy pants and drops some ash into the tray on my desk with a lazy flick of his thumb.

“Do I need a specific reason to visit you?” he teases.

_Always._

“I just wanted to check on how things are running,” he continues. “Make sure my resources are being put to good use.”

 _You would have sent a subordinate if that’s all it was,_  I argue in my head, but I accept his lies with a nod.

Aside from the president himself, Sanghyuk is one of the single most important figures of our national government. These days he practically  _is_  the government, with all the knowledge and power to which he is privy. It’s quite impressive for a man only a few years older than myself, to be honest. He has earned himself much respect, including from myself. I vastly appreciate all that he has donated to my work, but his favors are not always as generous as they appear. He never gives more than he can get in return, and he is ruthless with his collecting.

“Things are running very smoothly, sir,” I answer.

“Good, good.” He takes a moment to harbor the smoke in his lungs, then says, “I’m glad you’ve finally acquired a new chemist.”

_Of course he would know about that._

I smirk. “So am I. He’s been an excellent addition.”

Sanghyuk nods. “I’m sure he has. Was he the one behind the death of Dawson Enterprise’s CFO?”

His bullseye question gives me pause, but he already knows his own answer.

“Don’t worry, hon, it was a clean job. Very well done. No fingerprints, no evidence, no questions from anyone. The man died of an asthma attack as far as anyone is concerned.  _I’m_  the only one who can smell that it was one of your personal hits. I was wondering when someone would ask to have that pompous bastard killed. He was stealing company money, no?”

“He was,” I confirm flatly.

Sanghyuk clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. “Shame. He got what he deserved, then.”

I take another drag and say nothing as I wait for him to cut to the chase, but apparently he is not finished with the foreplay.

“This new chemist of yours,” he starts, extinguishing his cigarette. “I’d like to meet him, if it’s no trouble.”

“Not at all, sir.”

I stub out my own cigarette then lift my desk phone from its cradle and dial the lab’s extension. It takes until the last ring for Yoongi to pick up.

“Headmistress? I didn’t think you were in today,” he says from his end.

I ignore his comment. “Could you come up to my office? At once, please.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll be right there.”

Sanghyuk is content to sit in silence with me until Yoongi appears in the doorway after a short moment. We both get to our feet to greet him.

“Agent Suga,” I announce. “This is Mr. Han Sanghyuk. Sir, this is Agent Suga.”

Yoongi gives me a curious glance before meeting Sanghyuk’s frigid blue eyes and striding across the room to shake his hand as I did.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Yoongi says in his typical hushed tone.

“Agent Suga,” Sanghyuk returns politely, undeterred by the odd codename. “Or may I call you Yoongi?”

“Whatever you prefer,” Yoongi answers wisely.

“Excellent. And your girlfriend… her name is Yari, correct? Kwon Yari?”

For the first time, I see Yoongi’s pupils dilate in surprise. He has been caught off-guard by Sanghyuk’s need to flaunt his extensive knowledge of everyone else’s business.

“Wait, my mistake,” chuckles Sanghyuk. “She’s not your girlfriend anymore, is she? She’s your  _fiancée_.”

It is my turn to be surprised, especially when Yoongi nods in confirmation.

Our guest flashes a cheshire grin and abruptly shifts the topic. “Do you mind if I ask how you got those scars on your hand?”

I nearly scoff aloud. I find it incredibly hard to believe that he does not already know the answer. How can he not know how Yoongi scarred his hand when he certainly knows the exact nature of the proposal to his girlfriend?

“These?” Yoongi raises his right hand and twists it a few times. “Old jellyfish stings.”

“Oh?”

“Uh, yeah. I thought I had found a way to effectively deactivate its defense mechanisms, but clearly not. I’ve figured it out since then, though.”

“Fascinating!” Sanghyuk sounds genuinely impressed. “Do you often conduct experiments on animals? What other discoveries have you made in that field?”

Yoongi gives me a deferring glance, and I nod my head for him to elaborate.

“Not often, but occasionally,” he shares. “Some of the more dangerous animals have some obvious usefulness in the line of work I do for Headmistress Kim. I’ve been able to successfully weaponize the venom of several species of scorpions. I’m working on doing the same with black mambas, but the stability of the venom is proving to be trickier once taken from the host, and the extraction process itself is also more challenging.”

I enjoy when Yoongi speaks of his work in such detail. He takes it seriously and is really passionate about what he does. I smile in admiration.

Sanghyuk raises his eyebrows. “Absolutely astounding. You’re quite the brilliant man, aren’t you?”

Yoongi purses his lips in humble (or wary) acknowledgement.

“I think a man and woman of your’s and Headmistress Kim’s caliber are just the people I need for a high risk target I need dealt with.”

_Finally, he is getting to the core of why he is here._

I catch Yoongi’s eye, but direct my words to the other man: “I’m sure we can handle whatever it is you need done, sir.”

 

* * *

 

The two men shake hands again before Yoongi parts from us and returns to the lab. When it is my turn to do likewise, Sanghyuk tightens his grip and tugs me into his frame roughly.

“I need you to understand how important it is for you  _not_  to fuck this up, Kinsoo,” he whispers harshly in my ear. “Do I have to remind you of the last time a chemist of yours botched a hit? What a fucking mess that was. That debt of yours  _still_  needs to be paid.”

My heartbeat quickens at the mention of Hoseok, but I keep my voice even as I mutter back, “I told you, sir, that mission was not authorized by me. That agent went rogue.”

Sanghyuk hums in unamusement. “Then maybe I should remind you to keep your agents in line? Or are you fucking  _this_  one, too? Has he gotten you pregnant yet?”

I clench my jaw and grit, “No and no, sir.”

The taller man takes a step back but does not release his hold on me. I meet his gaze steadily.

“Well that’s good,” he says in satisfaction. “Oh, but that’s right - you  _can’t_  get pregnant, can you?”

I press my mouth into a tight line but do not give a verbal response.

“And you’re already fucking someone  _else_ , aren’t you?” he goes on. “You have been for a while, in fact.”

My racing heart comes to a skidding halt.

“What’s his name again?”

I keep my silence, unwilling to give up either of my lovers. He already knows my twin’s name, of course, but it would be just like him to feign forgetfulness just to torment me. Has he finally discovered my longest kept secret?

He snaps his fingers sharply and declares, “Ah! Jeon, that’s it. Jeon Jungkook.”

A surge of relief courses through me when he does not mention Taehyung, but that relief soon freezes in my veins. My brother could take care of himself if he was on Sanghyuk’s watchlist, but Jungkook is innocent.

My fingers twitch from the effort of keeping them spread apart rather than clenching into a fist.

“I’ll tell you what, Kinsoo. If you accomplish this mission for me as cleanly as I require, I won’t pay you the normal price, but I’ll consider your previous debt paid off.”

I bristle in disapproval. “But-”

He only has to cock an eyebrow to make me snap my teeth shut.  _God damn him_.

“I’ll consider your debt paid off,  _and_  I promise not to hurt your little boyfriend,” he throws in thoughtfully. “He’s really good-looking, isn’t he? It would be a shame if anything happened to his pretty face because of a mistake you made. But you  _won’t_  make any mistakes, will you, Kinsoo?”

If there were ever a time I wished to test his combat prowess against mine, it is now. Yet another reason I should never have gotten involved with Jungkook is the way he can be used as leverage against me, as Sanghyuk is proving to me quite cruelly right now.

Could I possibly retrieve the gun from his hip holster and fire it before he shoved me to the floor to do the same?

Yes, possibly, but the thin margin of doubt is too great to risk it, so I submit.

“No, sir, I won’t.”

 

* * *

 

I make sure Sanghyuk is well away from the premises before descending to the basement level.

Yoongi looks up at the ding of the elevator doors opening.

“Headmistress,” he greets and drops his eyes right back down to the gray metal table in front of him. His gloved hands are poking a needle-tipped syringe into the contents of a petri dish.

“You never told me you proposed to your girl,” I accuse sans segue.

He does not look at me as he slowly pulls the plunger of the syringe to draw the contents from the dish inside.

“I didn’t see the need to bring it up. I still don’t.”

“Why not? I’m excited for you. It  _is_  exciting, isn’t it?”

Yoongi sighs very faintly. He sets aside his tools, snaps off his gloves, then meets my gaze at last.

“I’m only excited about it when I’m not  _here_. When I’m not here, I can pretend there are not people out there who would threaten Yari’s life in an instant if they ever found out I or one of my concoctions killed one of their own loved ones. And I’m sure that that Mr. Han fellow will do the same if we don’t take out this supposed bomber terrorist, too.”

I always thought Namjoon was the smartest person I know, but Yoongi is quickly reaching to take that top spot. Or perhaps their knowledge bases are just different: Namjoon is a master with gadgets and hard data, whereas Yoongi knows how the world works and how human nature operates.

“So how do you presume to marry her and still protect her?” I ask quietly. My thoughts drift toward Jungkook. “How can you promise your life to her when you can’t even ensure the safety of your lives?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I may not be able to in the end. It might all go up in flames. It probably will, in fact. Not many things are worth such pain, but love is one of them, and I would hate myself forever if I didn’t at least try to love Yari as much and as best as I can, even if only for a short while.”

 

* * *

 

When I enter my home, I take half a second to listen for where Jungkook is, then rush straight for him.

“Hi sweetheart!” he greets cheerfully when I enter the kitchen, looking up from the knob he is turning on the stove. “I was just-"

The rest of his words become trapped between our locked lips when I slam into him. He grunts in surprise but is quick to welcome the gesture and curl his arms around me. I hook my arms behind his neck in turn and kiss him ravenously, over and over, until we are both reduced to heavy panting.

“Wow, babe. I'm not complaining, but what was all that for?” he asks with a wide grin.

I glide my hands around to cup his throat like a priceless ceramic vase. The pointed nails of my thumbs drag lightly across the crucial veins trapped beneath the creamy skin.

I keep my gaze fixed on his Adam’s apple instead of his face as I say solemnly, “I’ve killed people, Jungkook.”

The buoyant smile drops from his face like a lead balloon. After a pause, I see his chin tilt in a nod of understanding. I scratch at the nape of his neck and apply a little more pressure to his throat, directly above where I know his windpipe to be.

“I’ve killed people for so many years that I don’t even feel anything anymore after I do it,” I go on, still not meeting his eyes. My voice is devoid of emotion. “Though I guess I never really felt much in the beginning, either, to be honest.”

Jungkook makes no reply, but his hold on me does not waver, and neither does my hold on him.

There is no way I would be able to choke my boyfriend to death. His neck is too thick and muscular, and I am not capable of applying enough force before he could catch on and yank me away. A sharp chop to his Adam’s apple with the flat side of my hand could send him sputtering long enough for me to grab the small paring knife on the counter and jam it into his jugular, though. It would be agonizing for him, but only for a little while. The pain would be nothing compared to what he would have to endure if I told him right here and now that I am cheating on him with my twin brother.

Killing Jungkook would solve the problem of having him held over my head as a bargaining chip. He could never be used against me again. And  _his_  life would no longer be in danger, either. Seems like a win-win situation, honestly.

I would definitely be the first and top suspect in his murder, but I know I would never be convicted. There would be no proof to be found, and I would walk away scot-free.

But of course I would never kill him. He is my one redeeming quality.

That’s why I need him.

Yoongi’s words ring in my head:  _I would hate myself forever..._

I finally meet Jungkook’s eyes. They are full of questions and puzzlement and concern. My fingers drop away from his windpipe to squeeze his shoulders instead.

“I am not a good person, Jungkook. I don’t think I…  _feel_  things… the way normal people do. But I think I’m in love with you. I think I’m in love with you because I would  _kill_  for you. Do you hear me?” I rattle him gently to emphasize myself. “And I’m not romanticizing when I say that. I don’t mean it figuratively. I would literally kill a man - I would kill  _twenty_  men and women without hesitation - if it ensured your safety. I-”

This time  _he_  cuts off  _my_  words with a searing kiss that bruises on impact. His grip on my waist becomes a vise. I moan with each greedy suck and pull of his mouth and teeth against mine, and he practically growls back.

He slides his hands down to the backs of my thighs and tugs. I get the hint and hop up for him to catch me by my butt. He supports me easily and I wrap my calves securely around his middle after toeing off my shoes, all the while remaining liplocked. His sudden erection pokes excitedly at my core from inside his sweatpants, and my walls ache in response to its call.

“Bedroom?” Jungkook takes a second to ask.

I moan my lustful assent and nod eagerly.

He barely takes two steps before I am ripping my blouse off my torso and unfastening my bra.

“Fuck, babe,” he groans. His eyes devour my pert nipples the way his mouth wants to.

His now frenzied pace makes him trip on the fourth step of the staircase. He takes care to cradle my body in a way so that I do not collide with the stairs with too much force when we go down, but I am not worried about that in the least.

“Jungkook…” I plead, clawing at the waistband of his pants.

“Fucking  _hell_ ,” he grunts back. He yanks the obstructing garment down to his knees and kicks them off the rest of the way. His solid cock quivers with every movement.

I start to peel down my own pants and Jungkook helps me by ripping them away in one smooth motion, soon followed by my dampened panties. He does not hesitate to dive a finger into my cunt. The excessive wetness he finds inside makes us both moan.

“Turn around,” he orders gruffly after just a few shallow strokes. He pulls his finger back out and licks it, along with the rest of them. Then he rubs his saliva-coated fingers along his length to further prep himself for entry.

I twist around without a second to spare. The scorching tip of his dick makes its presence known by tapping against my inner thigh, then making contact with my sticky folds. It hits home deep inside my core with a determined thrust of his hips. We cry out in unison at the sensation of the connection.

The banister creaks when he grasps it tightly. His other hand is clenched into a fist on a step beside me to help prop himself up and not crush me.

He begins snapping into me at a relentless pace right off the bat. I lift my ass to better direct him towards my g-spot, and his balls swing into my clit repeatedly.

“God,  _fuck_ , Jungkook!” I squeal in sheer delight. “ _Please_  don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping ‘til you soak this fucking carpet, baby,” he assures me lewdly. He releases his hold on the banister to wrap his arm around me and toy at my aching clit from the front.

The carpet scratches against my cheek, but I cannot be bothered to lift my head. Especially since it will only be forced back down again by Jungkook’s powerful blows.

“Come on, angel,” he grunts through gritted teeth. His finger becomes furious in its pursuit of my orgasm, and the hand not between my legs applies a sharp slap to my ass. “Squirt all over me. Come on.”

The noises being produced from my vocal chords are crazed and incessant. If we were in Jungkook’s apartment, his  _neighbor’s_  neighbors would probably hear me, especially when I reach my climax. The hearty cry coupled with the gush of wetness I expel are downright pornographic.

Jungkook swears loudly and triumphantly. He gives several more rapid shoves before he erupts and contributes his own sticky release to the mess pouring out of me.

His thrusts skitter to a halt, and he pulls out of me with a groan of deep satisfaction. I push my sweaty hair away from my forehead and turn to face him when he slumps beside me.

“We didn’t make it to the bedroom,” he comments between gasps.

I giggle and retaliate with: “No, but I think I  _actually_  soaked the carpet.”

“Ah, that you did, babe,” he sighs proudly, tucking his chin down to look at the obscene mess below. “God, you are so fucking sexy.”

“I’m not complaining, but what was all that for?” I repeat his earlier words jokingly.

Jungkook huffs out a breath of laughter. “I don’t know, babe. Just the way you were talking got me really turned on. I had to have you.”

I lift an eyebrow curiously. “What, me talking about  _killing_  people?”

“Killing for  _me_ ,” he clarifies seriously. His dirtied fingers reach over and stroke my cheek tenderly. “I just- It was kind of sexy, the way you told me you love me. It was so  _you_. And it was worth waiting to hear. Thank you.”

 _Of course he would thank me for telling him I love him,_  I think to myself with a smirk on my face. That is so  _him_.

Not until the next morning, after presenting Jungkook with an important question regarding the growth of our relationship, do I realize Taehyung had not crossed my mind once since I told Jungkook I love him.

 

* * *

 

 

Copyright © 2018 - 2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


	5. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung discovers Kinsoo has escalated her relationship with Jungkook and struggles to understand it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings & Features: profanity; smoking; alcohol consumption; some harsh dialogue; brief domestic violence; very brief mention of infant (fetus) loss; infidelity; EXPLICIT INCEST; mentions of sexual content; brief appearance by Hyuk of VIXX
> 
> ***AS OF MARCH 15, 2019: LEE SEUNGHYUN ('SEUNGRI' OF BIGBANG) HAS BEEN REPLACED BY HAN SANGHYUK ('HYUK' OF VIXX)

##  **【Kinsoo’s POV】**

  _Could I really have asked for this to happen?_

Yes, I did. In the plainest, least ambiguous words possible.

_Jungkook, would you like to move in with me?_

That’s exactly what I had said.

So here I am, watching in a daze from the kitchen as he carries another box of his things (this one generically labelled as  _‘Misc.’_  in scrawled black permanent marker along the side) into the den that I invited him to transform into his personal little “man cave” - because isn’t that what men in committed relationships like to have? A personal little haven to retreat to, away from their significant others, every once in a while? It seemed logical to me; it seemed like something a  _good girlfriend_  would offer her boyfriend - because isn’t that all I want to be? A good

_(person)_

girlfriend?

_(I don’t know)_

Of course I do. But it is not simple.

I want to keep Jungkook close. To protect him.

I want to shove him far away. To protect him.

I love him.

I resist loving him.

I irrevocably love someone else. Someone the world would tell me I can’t and shouldn’t love. Not to the extent I do, anyway.

But it is not that simple.

“You good, babe?” Jungkook pauses to ask. “You look kind of… what’s the word. Pensive, I think.”

I force a smile. “I’m fine, baby. I’m just gonna grab a drink real quick. You want anything while I’m in here?”

He smiles back brightly to show how it’s done. “Nah, not right now. I just have a few more things to bring inside, and then I’ll take a break with you.”

“Okay.”

He shuffles off, and I fill a glass with tap water. Just as I bring the first sip past my lips, I hear footsteps wander in behind me. The weight of them tells me they are not Jungkook’s this time.

I swallow then say to the sink, “Hey, Jimin. Can I get you a drink?"

“Sure, thanks,” answers the blonde. “Just water is fine. Or maybe iced tea, if you have it?”

“Of course.”

I pull a clean glass down from a cabinet and make my way to the refrigerator. I can feel Jimin studying me closely as I pour the pitcher, so I make eye contact with him. He regards me with a curious stare.

“What are you doing, Kinsoo?” he questions when I hand him the drink.

“What do you mean?” I return evenly.

He chugs three quarters of the glass and sighs heavily. “I mean, Kook has been wanting more from you for quite a while now. Is this move you taking pity on him?”

“Is that what you think?” I ask quietly. “I’m doing this out of pity?”

“Well, it sure as hell doesn’t seem like you actually love him and want him to be around more.”

_I do love him._

_I don’t want to love him._

_I need to break up with him._

_I can’t let him go._

“What  _does_  it seem like, Jimin? Please, enlighten me with your point of view.”

He purses his pouty lips and eyes the open doorway to make sure the coast is clear. Then he says, “It seems like you're not totally committed to this relationship, to be honest.”

“But isn’t living together a show of commitment?” I scoff. “Look, I do know that Jungkook has been ready to take things further for a while. It's just taken me a bit longer to… assess my feelings. Relationships take time, Jimin. You'd know that if you were ever in one.”

He shakes his head in disagreement. “I don’t think it’s about things ‘taking time.’ I think it's about  _you_ , Kinsoo. You ask him to move in with you, but all day you’ve been spacing out. Kook is prancing around, giddy as a fuckin’ kid in a candy store, and you’re here giving him these short answers and half-assed smiles. Do you even realize how much he thinks the sun shines out of your ass? Or are you so sick in the head that you  _do_  realize it and just get off on toying with his emotions? Do you laugh about him to your friends?”

“Jimin, it’s not like-” I start, but he rushes on.

“What is it like, Kinsoo? Kook tells me you guys have things in common, but I just don’t see it. You’re such an uptight bitch. You turn your nose up at his hobbies, you never buy him gifts, you don’t even like riding in his car. So why are you with him? Do you just like having a younger guy fawn over you all the time? Is that it? Are you  _bored_? Are you  _going_  to get bored and then throw Jungkook away for another young guy when you’re done with him?”

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Jimin can hurl all the insults he wants at me, so long as he does not suspect my infidelity, which he does not seem to. Whatever else he thinks he understands, he doesn’t.

When I gather my wits, I step around the counter to stand in front of Jimin and bring my face inches from his. His hetero masculine instincts compel him to look directly at my lips before he regains his senses and takes a step back from me to maintain a more appropriate distance.

“Trust me, Jimin,” I whisper slowly. “If and when this is all over, Jungkook would be the one throwing  _me_  away.”

The shadows of his pupils grow to darken his otherwise cloudless blue eyes. My terse statement is clearly not what he expected. He drops his jaw to say more, but Jungkook’s voice is the one that calls out.

“Uh, hey you two. Everything good in here?”

Half of Jungkook’s body is poised to cross the threshold into the kitchen, but the other half is hesitant to enter the room full of tension.

I smile with as much lighthearted sweetness as I can muster and go to kiss his lips. He returns the gesture robotically with questions in his mouth.

“Everything is fine. We were just talking about the move,” I explain shortly. “You said you still have some more stuff to bring in, right? Why don’t I help you with that while Jimin finishes his drink.”

Without waiting for any protests, I take Jungkook by the wrist and lead him out the front door.

The rest of his belongings are in the bed of Jimin’s pickup truck in the driveway, but another car coming through the gate of my private neighborhood has caught all of my interest: an unmistakable, sleek white foreign sports car with windows tinted just dark enough to still remain street-legal. There is no need for me to see inside to know who the driver is.

My heart gives its usual jump of excited recognition, but my brain quickly chastises its childish reaction.

_He’s back early._

I would not say I am  _dreading_  speaking with my brother - because I have never dreaded any interaction with him in my entire life - but I have to admit I am not particularly eager to see him right now, either.

Taehyung rolls smoothly up to the curb, engine purring like a tiger, and comes to a stop. I watch his door swing open and his head pop up as he climbs out. A tiny orange flare comes to life at the last drag off his cigarette before he flicks it away onto the pavement. His movements are relaxed and unhurried as he shuts his car door, removes his chic sunglasses to clip them on the back of his shirt collar, and glides his fingers through his hair.

I wait for his eyes to meet their twins, but when they finally do, I instantly regret it. It is like a punch to my chest. I immediately want to rush to him, throw myself at him, beg his forgiveness for I don’t even know what, tell him he is the most beautiful thing in the world, that I am beyond lucky to have him and that he has to believe me.

But a sudden low whistle effectively breaks the moment and robs me of the courage (or rashness) to do any of that.

“Whoa!” exclaims Jimin, sliding out of the doorway past Jungkook and me. His eyesight is focused solely on the garish vehicle parked across the lawn. “Is that a fucking  _Bugatti Chiron_?”

Taehyung smirks as he strides up to meet us. “Yeah. How ya doin’, Jimin. Hey, Jungkook. What’s all this commotion about?” He glances pointedly at Jimin’s loaded truck and Jungkook’s own car parked cozily in my open garage.

Jungkook swells beside me. “Kinsoo asked me to move in with her.”

“I see.”

With just those two words, my brother cuts me down to an inch tall. Suddenly  _I_  feel like the slightly younger sibling with a hefty scolding coming her way.

Tae keeps his smoldering eyes fixed on mine but directs his next words to everyone else. “Seems like a cause for celebration, then. Why don’t you guys both take a break and run to the liquor store over on Plymouth. Pick Kinsoo up a bottle of vodka, a bottle of scotch for me, and a bottle of whatever you guys want. Take my car. At least one of you can drive a stick, yeah?”

He tosses his keys carelessly in the air, and Jimin’s hand immediately darts out to snatch them. Taehyung also slips a credit card to Jungkook and specifies what brands of alcohol he wants them to purchase for us.

“I need to talk to my sister alone about some things, anyway,” he tacks on to pardon himself for sending them away.

“Uh, alright.” Jungkook is clearly confused by the sudden errand, but I can tell he is also excited for the spontaneous joy ride. He turns to me and says, “Guess we’ll be right back, babe. Love you.”

He pecks my cheek and grins at the rise of color he creates.

“Mhm, you too,” I mumble back.

Jimin is already behind the wheel when Jungkook trots across the yard to join him. The engine roars as they take off.

“You just sent my boyfriend and a guy who owns  _three_  separate  _‘FBI: Female Body Inspector’_  shirts off in your custom made, three million dollar car to the liquor store on the other side of town,” I point out to my brother. “Either you’re insane, or you’re pissed.”

“Either  _you’re_  insane, or you’re more naive than you were when we were six,” he throws back. “You asked him to  _move in_  with you?”

“I did,” I respond stoically to his accusatory tone.

“Your  _fiancé_  didn’t even move in with you.”

As always, the mention of Hoseok draws a negative reaction from me. I retreat back into the house with an aggravated sigh and a soured mood. Tae follows at my heels and yanks on my elbow to spin me back around. I collide with his frame and quickly shove him away with both hands. He stumbles back a couple steps.

“I am not defending my decision to you. Not now,” I mutter angrily and begin walking away again. His long legs easily catch up to block my way.

“You two won’t last one week under the same roof before you realize he’s essentially a frat boy without a deep thought in his brain, and he realizes you’re too much woman for him to handle.”

“Fuck you, Taehyung,” I spit. “You don’t know anything about him or about the way we are together. Jungkook is more of a man than you think.”

His eyebrow quirks at that. “Oh really? The only pet name you ever use on him is  _‘baby.’_   _You_  don’t even see him as a man. It’s like you’re trying to fill some sort of… ‘maternal hole’ left in you after losing your actual baby.”

My nostrils flare with fury. I jab my finger towards his face and snarl, “Don’t you fucking do that. Don’t you  _dare_  try to shrink me, you stupid prick.”

“It’s not like you have the best sense of boundaries when it comes to ‘appropriate’ relationships, you know,” Tae continues crassly as if the same statement does not also apply to him.

I know better than to strike him, but my father’s temper rises, and I instinctively unclench my raised fist to slap my brother’s cheek with my open palm. The moment my fingers uncurl, he captures my wrist and twists it behind my back, using the momentum to spin me around until I am facing away from him. Then he presses closely against me and leans his chin on my shoulder from behind. My heart is hammering with rage, but also with excitement from his close proximity and the scent of his cologne. I realize I’ve missed it. I’ve missed  _him_.

“What is the matter with you, Kiki?” he speaks quietly, trailing his words up my neck and into my ear. “Why are you doing this to yourself? To him? To  _me_?”

His doleful plea quells the anger in me. A lump lurches in my throat and refuses to be swallowed down.

“I don’t know...” I croak lamely.

Tae lets go of my arm and eases me back around to face him. He runs his long fingers through my hair gingerly to tuck it behind my ears, then strokes my earlobes with his thumbs while cradling my face. I refuse to meet his gaze. I am afraid of crumbling the second I do. His collarbone is a much safer place to fix my eyes.

“You’re trying to make yourself happy,” he ventures, explaining my own behavior to me. “And I  _want_  you to be happy, sis. I do. That’s why I haven’t minded sharing you. But you are taking this too far, and you have  _got_  to stop fooling yourself. I know you care about Jungkook, probably even more than you cared about Hoseok, but this thing you have with him… It might be giving you some happiness  _now_ , but it is going to end, and it is going to end badly. Just like before. Get a fucking  _grip_ , Kinsoo.”

“I can’t,” I whimper, on the verge of tears now. “I can’t leave him, Taehyungie.”

I expect the endearing and infrequent nickname to incite some comforting and coddling from him, but instead he becomes stern.

“You  _can_ , you just  _won’t_. You’re a goddamn masochist.”

He smacks my cheek sharply to prove his statement. The sting and the shock of it knocks the sob right out of me and builds my anger again.

This time he lets me slap him back, and I take advantage of the opportunity by doing so twice - once across each cheek. The second is much harder than the first, and I feel a twinge of guilt at the satisfaction it brings me.

Tae’s lip curls when he pulls his face back around to look at me. He captures my throat in the juncture between the thumb and forefinger of one of his hands and squeezes.

“You are a vicious, ruthless, beautiful,  _stupid_  fucking bitch...” His thumb glides from one side of my windpipe to the other and back again. “...and I love you so much.”

“ _You’re_  a cunning, deadly, gorgeous, arrogant asshole, and I love  _you_  so much,” I retaliate with a small smile. Even when speaking so harshly to me, he is still the king of making me smile in tough situations. He has had a lifetime of practice, after all.

“Then  _leave_  him, Kiki,” Taehyung implores fervently. His hand lifts from my neck to hold my face again. When he pulls me in, I automatically tilt my head so that our noses are almost touching. “Let it be just us again. It’s always been us against the world; that’s how it’s meant to be, and you know it.”

My fingers tremble as I slide them over his to press them even tighter against my cheeks. The tears well up again. One drips loose from each eye as I stare fixedly at the mirror images regarding me closely.

Oh, how nice it would be to tell him everything will be fine. To let him take me, right here on the hardwood. To trace the body I memorized long ago with my eyes, my fingers, my lips, my tongue. To kiss him senseless and lose myself in his skin until we are one. To fall back into what I am comfortable with.

But I can’t. I won’t.

I’ve decided.

“Tae, listen to me.” My voice is shaking as I gather my words, but I push myself on. “I’ve always wanted to make the world a better place for you. For  _us_. After all the shit we’ve been through, I am always going to want that. And I am going to be in love with you until the day I die, and even after, if there is such a thing as after. But Jungkook… he makes me want to be a better  _person_ , and I think it’s time I focused on that. I love him, too - yes, Tae, I do - and I don’t want to hurt him anymore. I  _won’t_  hurt him anymore.”

I peel his hands away from my skin but do not break our stare or step away from him. Tae’s eyes and lips tighten.

“He doesn’t even  _know_  you’re hurting him though,” he argues in a low tone. “And it will be better in the long run if you end this now.”

“I  _am_  ending this,” I point out. “Between  _us_. You and me. I’m not sneaking around with you behind Jungkook’s back anymore.”

I flinch at Tae’s sudden laughter.

“You’re ‘breaking up’ with me?” he asks in amusement.

I sigh deeply. “Tae, I-”

“I know having something  _‘new’_  and  _‘passionate’_  is exciting for you,” he interrupts, scratching at the air with his fingers to symbolize quotation marks. “But it’s going to burn out, and then you’ll be left with what you and I have built together. Something much more durable and long-lasting than a silly little fling with some kid who doesn’t matter.”

I open my mouth, but my rebuke comes out as a pair of pinched squeaks that devolve into another sigh.

Tae leans in slowly when he gauges that I am not going to speak. He nuzzles his nose against my cheek hesitantly, and I do not stop him. Then he tilts his chin and brushes his lips against mine, moving his mouth in gentle coaxing motions, and I feel myself begin to slip as I kiss him back.

The tension leaves my body and my hands naturally find their way to the back of his head. My twin mimics the action to tangle his fingers in my hair and hold me in place as though he is afraid of ever letting go. The kiss deepens, and I welcome his tongue with mine.

_Goddamnit. Why does everything have to feel so comfortable between Taehyung and I when it is considered so perverse to everyone else?_

_And why does it also feel so natural to love Jungkook, too, yet so perplexing at the same time?_

The thought of my boyfriend - who will be returning to the home that is both of ours now - brings me back to my senses. I step back a few paces and shake my head disapprovingly, but even as I do, I cannot stop myself from licking my lips to get every last taste of Taehyung.

“No, Tae. I’ve made my choice, and I have to stick to it,” I say firmly. “Jungkook  _does_  matter.”

“And I  _don’t_?” Taehyung scoffs. His eyes are pained and fiery.

I gulp and murmur, “Of course you do. I need you in my life... just not this way.”

A look of utter confusion crosses my brother’s features. He lifts his hands as if to reach out to me, but drops them back down helplessly when I make no move to approach him. Honestly, I am just as confused. I never expected to be saying these words to him, ever. Then Yoongi’s words from days ago drift through my mind again:

_It might all go up in flames. It probably will, in fact. Not many things are worth such pain, but love is one of them…_

But which love will be the one to combust? Am I choosing the right one?

I want to try and explain myself further to fully convince both of us, but my cell phone begins buzzing somewhere in the house. The kitchen, it sounds like.

“Ignore it,” Tae commands straight away.

“I can’t. I’m ‘on call’ because of this high priority target Han Sanghyuk needs taken out.”

He follows me into the kitchen. “What target?”

“Some firebug bitch he thinks has graduated to manufacturing homemade bombs and is threatening to blow up some banks across town,” I explain quickly as I grab my phone off the counter. The caller ID shows as  _Restricted_. I swipe the screen without delay. “Hello?”

“Kinsoo.” Sanghyuk’s voice is expected and unwelcome.

“Yes, sir.”

“The target is at her residence right now and should be quite vulnerable. She needs to be eliminated. Now.”

_If she’s so vulnerable, you should take her out yourself,_  I grumble, but only in my mind. To say those words aloud would be akin to handing my boyfriend’s head over to him on a platter.

“Understood,” I agree instead.

“I’m having your chemist pick you up; he knows where to go. You  _are_  home, aren’t you? I already took the liberty of informing the guard at your gate to let him through.”

I close my eyes and exhale my annoyance as silently as possible. “Yes, sir, I’m here. I’ll be ready.”

“Good. And remember, Kinsoo: Do  _not_  fuck this up.”

The line clicks dead and I grit my teeth.

“You’re not going  _today_ , are you? Right now?” questions Tae when I begin moving around purposefully.

“Of course I am. You know that prick doesn’t give reasonable notice. But it’s fine. Yoongi and I can handle it.”

“Agent Suga is going with you?”

“Yes. I assume he’ll be here any minute.”

I slide open a drawer in the kitchen and retrieve a knife and holster to strap to my ankle, as well as a small pistol with a fitted silencer to tuck into the waistband of my pants. I make a quick mental note to warn Jungkook about the locations of my other hidden weaponry lest he come across some startling discoveries.

Apparently Jungkook is on Taehyung’s mind, too, because the next thing he says is: “Well, are you going to let your boyfriend know you won’t be here when he gets back?”

“He already knows I’ve been expecting to be called into work at any moment. Why don’t you tell him? You have to stay here and wait for him and Jimin to return your car anyway. Finish helping move his stuff in while you wait.”

“That is the shittiest joke you have ever told, Kinsoo.” He glares his own daggers at me. “After what we were just talking about, you really think I want to help add fuel to this insane fire?”

“I don’t care what you do, but I don't have time to stand here and bicker with you, and I don't have time to call Jungkook, either. This mission is extremely important and I need to get my head clear.”

He purses his lips and studies my face. After a long pause, he says, “This conversation is not over. We’re not leaving things like this.”

The honk of a car horn outside disagrees.

“We are for now,” I declare. “We can talk more later, but don’t expect me to change my mind.”

“Hey.” He curls a hand around my bicep gently as I go to pass him. “Be careful, Kiki.”

His gentle eyes and genuine tone make me smile. I soften towards him and reach up to stroke a thumb across one of his cheekbones.

“I will, Tae. I always come back to you, don’t I?”

 

* * *

##  **【Taehyung’s POV】**

I mosey around my sister’s darkening home after she leaves, flicking on lights in several rooms while I wait for her boyfriend and his friend to return.

The living room and kitchen look much the same, but the den is now stored with many things that unmistakably belong to Jungkook. Several old sports and dance trophies are cluttered about in various places, on their way to being properly displayed atop shelves.

A fancy-looking laptop sitting on the seat of a slim leather chair draws my eye. The weight of it is heavier than expected when I lift the sleek device and prop open the lid to turn it on. Not surprisingly, I am immediately met with a login screen prompting me to input a password. RM could probably crack it in less than a minute if I asked him to, but I just close it again and let it be. Whatever games and porn Jungkook has stored can remain his business. 

The multitude of picture frames catch my attention next. They are strewn about rather haphazardly for what I would think should be considered cherished items. I pick up a few and glance at the people in them: Jungkook and his parents, Jungkook and a man I assume to be his older brother, Jungkook and Jimin and other friends I don’t recognize.

I come across one featuring him and Kinsoo and take my time studying it. The two of them appear to be standing in his dance studio. Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed and his hairline is sweaty. One of his arms is hanging loosely off of Kinsoo’s shoulders, and one of her hands is reaching up to interlock her fingers with his. His temple is resting against her head as they both beam brightly into the camera Jungkook must be holding at arm’s length with his other hand to snap the picture. I cannot deny they make one good-looking couple. And as I trace my thumb back and forth across the glass over my sister’s smile, there is also no denying that it is a genuinely happy one.

I sigh and set the photo back down gently.

My feet carry me upstairs next with my fingers dragging along the smooth wooden railing. I go directly to Kinsoo’s bedroom and inhale the scent of her perfume deep into my chest, but the sight of a foreign suitcase perched on her bed induces a long sigh before I am ready to let go of the sweet air.

I ignore the suitcase and move to the jewelry box on the dresser. Inside, I quickly find my necklace. The silver one with the curved  _T_. I let it ripple through my fingers slowly and catch it with my other hand. I pinch the pendant between my thumb and forefinger and examine it as though it were a diamond.

All jewelry looks nice on my pretty sister - the bangles on her slim wrists, the dangling earrings that drop down to her sharp jawline, the strings of pearls that hug her dainty throat - but I always thought this piece in particular suited her best. A simple little chain that used to hold so much meaning to her.

I am not sure  _what_  it means to her now. I am not sure what  _I_  mean to her now.

_No_. I shake my head to chastise myself. It’s not that I am unsure how she feels about me, it’s that I cannot understand why she is determined to prioritize her feelings for  _him_  when they pale in comparison. Why does she say one thing but feel another? What is going on in that mind of hers that I should know as well as my own?

A familiar engine rumbles outside. I step over to the window and peer down at the driveway to see my car pulling up, this time with Jungkook behind the wheel. He opens the door and shuts it again with a delicate sort of reverence, and I smirk.

I reluctantly part with the necklace to leave the room, but not before Jungkook is already calling out from downstairs.

“Babe? We’re back! I’m home!”

_Home._

My eye twitches.

The bottles of liquor clink together when Jimin slides them onto the counter as I enter the kitchen again.

“Jesus, Chim, be careful, would ya?” frets Jungkook. “Those were expensive.”

Jimin rolls his eyes before landing them on me.

“Oh hey, Taehyung,” he greets. “Your ride is fuckin’  _sweet_ , dude.”

“Thanks,” I mutter disinterestedly while lighting a cigarette.

On my way to the ashtray, Jungkook hands me back my credit card and asks, “Is Kinsoo upstairs?”

I shake my head. “No, she’s out. Work called.”

His eyes widen briefly before he nods in understanding.

“Well, you still wanna stay and drink with me and Jimin ‘til she gets back?” he offers.

I exhale smoke into his face. To his credit, he does not flinch. I tap the ash into the dish and contemplate him for a moment. If Kinsoo was searching for someone wholesome, she would be hard pressed to do any better. His eyes are too trusting. His face is too open. His emotions are too easy to interpret.

I look over to Jimin next. He is just as easy to decipher. He enjoys fast cars, drinking alcohol with the intent to get wasted, getting his balls emptied by the girls clumsy enough to fall into his bed, and winning. Anything else is probably considered unworthy of his time and attention.

A night in of shooting the shit with these two gives me half a mind to inject myself with whatever Agent Suga’s latest experiment is, but he is not available, so I let the thoughts of how this might end up being a decently entertaining evening take over. Maybe I will learn something about Jungkook to truly endear him to me, as doubtful as that is.

“Okay, sure,” I finally answer. “You guys want a smoke?”

Jungkook predictably declines but Jimin accepts. I toss the pack and my lighter to him, then grab some glasses from one of the cabinets. Kinsoo does not have proper snifters for my whisky, so I settle for short tumblers and shot glasses instead.

“Yes! Shots!” Jimin declares enthusiastically as he opens the bottle of cinnamon whiskey he and Jungkook evidently chose for themselves. He pours a trio of drinks and raises his in a toast. “To winning the competition.”

“I will definitely drink to that!” seconds Jungkook.

I smile and shrug and clink my own glass against theirs. “To winning your competition, then.”

I swallow down the cloying liquid as quickly as possible then pour myself a much better beverage. Jimin questions me when I add a small dribble of water to the scotch, just as I figured he would, and my explanation of how it enhances the taste is completely lost on him.

“Did Kinsoo say how long she would be?” Jungkook cuts in as we settle around the table. “Did she say what time she’d be back?”

I can’t help but smile at his concern. Seriously, why couldn’t Kinsoo have just gotten herself a dog like a sensible woman?

“She didn’t say,” I tell him. “She said it was important, though, so it might be a while.”

Jungkook nods again a bit dejectedly. For some reason, I feel oddly compelled to comfort him.

“She’s excellent at what she does, though,” I assure. “I’m sure she’ll get everything sorted out and return while the night is still young.”

“What  _does_  Kinsoo do?” Jimin chimes in this time. “What do  _you_  do, Taehyung? Come on, you can tell me.”

“I could, but then I’d have to kill you,” I evade with a grin.

He rolls his eyes but smiles back anyway. “Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. Seriously, I won’t tell anyone.”

I shrug my eyebrows at him while I sip my drink. “I seriously can’t tell you, Jimin. Maybe you can ask Kinsoo when she gets back. For now, I think we’d better change the subject. I don’t want to talk about work.”

Three seconds of solid eye contact and a lopsided smile are enough to get me my way. My younger companion’s choice of conversation shifts, but does not necessarily improve, especially after a few more shots.

“No, swear! Swear to God!” insists Jimin, slamming his glass down on the table to emphasize himself after recounting another thrilling tale of his conquests. “It was like an actual peach. Never tasted pussy so good in my  _life_.”

Jungkook giggles gleefully, and I chuckle along to humor them.

“He’s got a million of these stories,” Jungkook explains to me as if I asked or care. Then he asks his friend, “So where did you find  _that_  girl, Chim?”

Jimin smirks. “That one? Picked her up in a bar, just like you did with yours, Kook. Hey, what does  _she_  taste like, by the way? I never asked you.”

“Dude, her fucking brother is sitting  _right here_ ,” Jungkook hisses. “He doesn’t want to hear that shit.”

This time my laughter is more sincere. I could have recited a dissertation on what Kinsoo tastes like between her thighs by the time I was eighteen.

Instead, emboldened by the alcohol and feeling just a bit mischievous, I say, “It’s fine, Jungkook. Kiki’s such a cold bitch sometimes, I’d bet she’s got ice chips in her cunt.”

Twin sprays of whiskey fly across the table, and I lean away from the line of fire with a smile. Jimin proceeds to slap both his knees hysterically, and Jungkook suffers through a coughing fit.

“Right?!” wheezes Jimin with tears in his eyes. “I told you your girl’s a bitch, Kook. Even her brother sees it.”

Jungkook shakes his head and one of his hands as he recovers. “I-is n-not,” he sputters. “She is not. She’s good to me. And for the record, she tastes like cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon? Really?” says Jimin, eyeing his drink in a new light.

Jungkook nods. “In my mind, at least. She smelled like cinnamon the first night we slept together, so now I always think of that.”

His story makes me think of the first time Kinsoo and  _I_  had sex - our first time with anyone. She smelled of blood and tears and the cherry blossom lotion she was obsessed with all through her teens. I can still taste it. And, like Jungkook, I often think of that first time whenever Kinsoo and I are together.

“God, you are  _such_  a  _sap_!” groans Jimin, jarring me back to the present and earning himself the middle finger from Jungkook.

“Here’s something  _un_ sappy for you, Jimin,” I say to appease him. “On my birthday last year - just a few months ago - it was snowing like crazy outside. Roads were a complete mess. But I call this woman up for a booty call anyway. Play the  _‘come on, baby, it’s my birthday,’_  card, right?”

Jimin hoots and slaps his poor knees again. “Yeah, man, of course! So she  _had_  to come over, right?”

“Not only did she come over, but she shows up at my front door in the freezing cold wearing a trench coat and heels with nothing but her lingerie on underneath.”

“No shit?” says Jungkook, raising his eyebrows in interest.

“Yup,” I nod. “I know it sounds like some tacky TV and movie shit, but it was actually hot as hell. Especially with what she was wearing. Black lace, garter belt… It looked incredible on her.”

Jimin whistles in salute to my good fortune, and I tilt my glass towards him in thanks.

“Fuck, dude. Kinsoo bought herself a panty set just like that a few months ago, too,” murmurs Jungkook in a dreamy sort of tone, either forgetting to whom he is speaking or unconcerned with it anymore.

_Actually,_ I  _was the one who bought it for her and then had her show it off to me on our snowy birthday_ , I chuckle to myself.

“So I bet you spent all night warming her up then, right?” Jimin wants to know with a shit-eating grin on his face.

The sound of a cell phone ringing interrupts me for the second time tonight. The two of them both pat their pockets, and Jungkook turns out to be the winner. He pulls out his phone and squints at the screen.

“Weird. The number’s blocked,” he announces. “Guess they can just leave a message then.”

The moment he pockets it after the ringing stops, it starts right back up.

“Oh just answer it, dude,” sighs Jimin, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna go take a leak. Is the bathroom just down the hall, Taehyung?”

I nod and he leaves us. Then I light up another cigarette and study Jungkook while he blinks curiously at his phone. He shrugs and finally answers it.

“Hello?”

I can hear the muffled voice on the other end, and I can tell it is male, but I cannot make out the specific words. I do not need to to know the caller is speaking quickly and purposefully, though.

Jungkook’s face blanches as he listens. When the voice stops, the young man does not offer any sort of verbal response to whatever he just heard. His eyes meet mine, and his emotion is etched plain as a picture: he is frightened.  _Very_  frightened.

I gaze straight back at him in understanding. There are a few bothersome questions in my mind ( _was that who I think it was; why is he calling Jungkook instead of me_ ), but my voice is calm when I ask the only one that matters:

“Is my sister still alive?”

 

* * *

 

 Copyright © 2018-2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


	6. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jungkook and Taehyung learn the outcome of Kinsoo’s mission, and Jungkook unexpectedly learns some secrets about Kinsoo as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings & Features: profanity; instances of violence (against a human and a pet); use of lethal weapons; major character injury; some medical and drug terminology in a hospital-like setting; sci-fi elements; mentions of murder and death from a terrorist attack; mentions of infidelity; mentions of explicit incest; some nudity; heartbreak; brief mention of domestic violence; appearance by Hyuk of VIXX
> 
> **AS OF MARCH 15, 2019: LEE SEUNGHYUN ('SEUNGRI' OF BIGBANG) HAS BEEN REPLACED BY HAN SANGHYUK ('HYUK' OF VIXX)

##  **【Kinsoo’s POV】**

_The concrete is so eager to meet me, and gravity is all too happy to introduce the two of us._

Yoongi’s voice must be my imagination, or else a trick of the wind; he seems to be shouting - actually  _shouting_  - at me, and the only word I can make out is my first name, which he has never addressed me by before.

I twist my head in the direction of the strange sound to see him running towards me from below. His sharp, dark eyes are unusually wide and fixated on my falling form. I stretch one of my arms out towards him, but he is too far away to offer any assistance. By the time he  _does_  reach me, it will be too late. Though everything does seem to be in slow motion when I turn my head straight again.

I notice the stars watching me serenely. They are not concerned by my fatal predicament. I close my eyes against them, but the tears still leak. I wonder which regret has brought them on. Not having been able to live “happily ever after” with Hoseok? Not having loved Jungkook as honestly and wholeheartedly as he deserved? Not having Taehyung here with me at the end? Having committed such heinous acts in my life and justifying them in ways no one but myself could understand?

The thoughts flood into mind all at once. They roll over and crash into each other in a dizzying whirlpool until the pavement kisses my spine and blackness drowns me.

 

* * *

******「**** _One Hour Earlier_ 」**

The honk of a car horn outside cuts into mine and Taehyung’s conversation, and I let him know we are finished here. I need to put our discussion out of my mind to prepare for the task at hand. The outcome of this mission puts more at stake than just mine and Yoongi’s lives or safety. Innocent people in the city are also at risk, from what Sanghyuk believes. And, even more importantly to me,  _Jungkook’s_  safety is at risk if we should fail.

But of course I do not intend to fail tonight. I never have.

As I go to walk past my brother, he grabs my bicep. My immediate thought is that he is going to try and force me to stay right here in the kitchen with him until we can come to a solution we are both happy with, but his hold on me is gentle, not commanding.

“Hey.” His deep and serious tone brings my attention to his face. “Be careful, Kiki.”

My expression relaxes entirely when I sink into his eyes, and I glide the pad of my thumb across one of his cheekbones affectionately. My cunning, deadly, gorgeous, arrogant twin.

“I will, Tae. I always come back to you, don’t I?”

He smiles beautifully. “That you do.”

Yoongi is waiting patiently for me in his car on the curb by my driveway. I let myself into the passenger seat of the modest silver sedan.

“You could have come inside, you know,” I mention to him.

He eyes Jungkook’s car in the garage and says, “Looks like you have company. Didn’t want to waste time with pleasantries.”

“And miss your chance to meet  _Mr. Imaginary?_ ” I joke with a laugh, and even Yoongi has to smile at that. “Ah, it’s just as well. He’s not even here right now anyway, and you’re right - we should get this over with.”

Without any more prompting, Yoongi shifts the car into gear and pulls away from my home.

“I don’t have anything on me,” he tells me, and I know he is referring to his chemical weapons. “We’ll need to swing by Headquarters to grab some stuff from the lab.”

“Is it on the way?”

“Not really, no.”

I contemplate for a moment, then decide, “Let’s not, then.”

“Are you sure? I have plenty of things that could prove useful, as you know.”

The prospect of having an immobilizing injection or two on hand gives me cause to think it over again, but I stand with my first decision. “I’m sure. We’ll be fine without them. Sanghyuk made it sound urgent when he called me, so I don’t know what our window of opportunity is tonight, and I don’t want to waste any time.”

Yoongi hums in understanding. The street lamps blink to life as we pass them as though they are activated by motion sensors.

“He briefed me a little,” Yoongi mentions.

“Tell me.”

“Target goes by ‘Jackie’ but was born Kang Jakyung. Twenty-five years old, five-foot-six, brown hair, brown eyes. She’s been charged with several counts of arson dating back to the age of seventeen but never been convicted. Believed to be making homemade explosives due to some threats made on numerous banks around the city that have been escalated to the attention of the government, but Mr. Han did not tell me what the target stands to gain from such an attack. No knowledge of her having any combat skills or owning any firearms, but she could have some illegally unregistered, of course. Lives in a one-bedroom apartment on the southwest side of town, fourth floor, apartment four-oh-two. Owns a dog - a German Shepherd. Unsure about the risk of attack.”

I grunt and scrunch my nose for a second at that last mention. The thought of having to incapacitate a pet is unsavory, but that won’t stop me from doing it if necessary.

“Is that everything?”

Yoongi thinks for a moment. “Yes.”

I watch him sniff and shove his glasses up his nose. A newly-awakened streetlight glints off the silver metal of his wrist watch. He is not wearing his usual color, but his clothing is still dark - a navy sweater and dark jeans. I cannot recall him ever wearing cologne in our few months spent working together, but tonight he smells faintly of pinewood, and his raven hair is nicely combed and parted. He was clearly headed on a date with his fiancée this evening.

“I hope Sanghyuk didn’t disturb any plans when he called you,” I apologize in a roundabout way.

“He didn’t,” Yoongi says at once. The lie offends me a little, but I don’t call him out on it. “I had to make up an excuse to leave Yari, but it's not like it was the first time I've had to do that.”

“Did she believe you?” I wonder.

“Not completely, I don’t think.”

“But she was fine with you going?”

He shrugs and sniffs again. “She trusts me.”

“That’s good,” I hum.

“What about your boyfriend?”

“What about him?”

“Does he trust you?”

A vision of Jungkook’s sweet smile floats into mind, and one side of my mouth smiles back at it for half a second before drooping. I turn my face towards the window and mutter under my breath, “More than he should...”

“Sorry?”

“He does,” I say a little louder. If Yoongi notices any difference in my statements, he does not mention it. After a few silent moments, I look back over at him. “Hey.”

“Yes, Miss.”

I lick my lips slowly, then say, “I want to give you a different contact number in case something goes wrong tonight.”

“A different number for Agent V?”

“No, not him. Actually, I… I want you to call Jungkook instead.”

Yoongi side-eyes me for a second. “You want me to call your boyfriend instead of your brother if something goes wrong?” His skeptical tone surprises me.

“You make it sound like that’s a problem. I trust his discretion, and you should, too. Besides -  _your_  emergency contact is Yari, and she doesn’t even know what you’re really doing tonight.”

He cracks another small smile. “Fair enough.” He shifts his weight to pull his phone from his pocket and hands it over to me so I can input the number myself. Then he says, “Hopefully nobody but Mr. Han will be receiving a phone call of  _‘Mission completed successfully’_  from us tonight, anyway.”

I grunt as I return his phone to him. “Yes, hopefully so.”

 

* * *

 

Yoongi parks the car a fair distance from the apartment complex when we arrive at our destination. He goes to turn off the engine, but I place a hand over his to stop him. His scars feel warm and wrinkly.

“Stay here,” I tell him. “I don’t intend for this to take long.”

“What? That’s not-” He clears his throat and shakes his head. “With all due respect, Miss, I didn’t come out here just to be your chauffeur.”

“I know, but Sanghyuk kind of forced you into this assignment with me when we both know  _I’m_  the one he really wants to complete the job. And I’d prefer to handle this on my own anyway.”

“Why? Is it because of that mistake I made with Dawson’s CFO? I won’t make any mistakes again. You’ve been quite the capable instructor, and I’ve learned a lot from you about executions since then. I can help you, even without my…  _resources_.”

I smile and make sure to lock eyes with him as I say, “It’s not that I doubt your capabilities. Like I said, Sanghyuk really needs  _me_  to do this.  _I_  need me to do this. He… made a threat towards me. Towards Jungkook...”

I trail off and avert my gaze for a second. When I look back at him, Yoongi’s indignant expression has softened a little. His hand twitches, and I realize I am still cupping it, so I pull back.

“Besides,” I go on to more practical matters. “Having both of us in there could get messy and hectic, and I want to do this as quickly and quietly as possible with minimal risk of causing a scene in a residential area. Just keep the car running, and if I’m not back in fifteen minutes,  _then_  you can come after me. And if anything goes wrong, remember to call Jungkook; it’s speed dial number eight on your phone now.”

Yoongi purses his already thin lips into a tight line to express that he is still in disagreement with this plan. His defiance is not loud or heated, but it still very much reminds me of the way Hoseok was before his last (unapproved) mission. The memory angers me more than saddens me right now, especially when I recall Sanghyuk’s biting remark about keeping my agents in line.

“I’m giving you an  _order,_  Agent,” I state in a clear, sharp tone now. “You are to wait for me here.”

Yoongi’s nod of submission comes after a few tense seconds. “I’ll wait for fifteen minutes.”

“We can make it ten minutes, if you want,” I say, and that seems to appease him a little more.

My feet splash into a puddle of leftover melted snow from the end of the lengthy winter when I exit the car. The chilly air feels dry. I glance up at the darkened sky to find it clear and cloud-free, but there is no moon to offer any natural light tonight.

Before I move too far away from the car, I subtly finger the gun tucked into the back of my pants to make sure it is still secured, then make sure it is covered by my black leather jacket. The weight of the knife strapped to my ankle is also reassuring. I shouldn’t need more than those two weapons. I’ve worked with a lot less.

I tuck my hands into my pockets and my head down, then begin approaching the building. From the edges of my vision, I examine my surroundings. Although the hour is not very late, I notice only one other person on the streets: a balding old man who is locking up his shop. He turns in the opposite direction and walks away briskly without having looked over at me.

Some trash is littered on the sidewalk and the sparsely occupied parking lot. Parts of the metal staircase of the apartment complex are rusting from exposure to the elements. It creaks in protest under my weight as I make the ascension to the fourth floor. At the second floor, a gray cat sitting on a welcome mat glares at me with pretty green eyes. I don’t know if its home is on the other side of the door it is sitting in front of, and I do not stop to find out.

 _Just an in and out job, Kinsoo,_  I tell myself.  _You’ve done this a hundred times._

I wonder if Sanghyuk is planning on assisting with the cover-up story once the woman’s body is found dead; it’s  _his_  target, after all. But considering how we never discussed it, I can only assume he is entrusting  _me_  with that responsibility, too. It should be easy enough to stage this as a suicide, but that would entail leaving my gun behind if I shoot her. It wouldn’t be a problem, but I avoid parting with weapons if I don’t have to. Some well-placed slices to her wrists could do the job just as well.

With that thought in mind, I go ahead and retrieve the blade from beneath my pant leg and conceal it behind my back as I step up to door four hundred and two. It looks as ordinary as any other door, giving no indication as to what kind of twisted person lives behind it. Perhaps the target is not even home like Sanghyuk said she was. After knocking three times in succession, I wait to find out.

The door opens away from me and into the home (as most residential front doors do) and is quickly caught by a metal chain latched on the other side. Wary brown eyes in a thin face appear in the opening. Her height fits Yoongi’s description, as does her apparent age. An angry pink burn scar on the woman’s neck catches my eye, but does not surprise me. This has to be her.

“Jackie?” I ask to further verify I have the correct person.

Her answer is to look me over from head to toe, then shut the door, which is all the confirmation I need.

 _So much for doing this quietly…_  I sigh to myself.

I glance around to make sure I do not have an audience, then lift my leg to slam the bottom of my foot against the door, just to the side of the doorknob. It takes two firm kicks for the latch and the chain lock to give, and the door swings open to crash into the woman still standing directly on the other side. She goes reeling.

I cross the threshold and hastily shut the door behind me as best I can in the cracked frame to give us some privacy. By the time I finish, the target has regained some steady footing.

When I come at her with the knife, she cowers and raises her arms instinctively to block her face. It would be easy to sink the blade into her unprotected abdomen and pierce some vital organs, but that would not line up with the suicide scenario I have in mind. Instead, I seize one of her arms and yank it away from her head forcefully.

Before I can make my first intended cut, something sharp clamps onto my right calf and sinks in. I gasp in surprised pain and look down to see the nearly full-grown German Shepherd coming to the woman’s rescue.

The target murmurs a praising,  _“Good girl, Sasha,”_  to her pet just as I deliver a crunching punch to the animal’s ribs. She yelps loudly, and my knee gives out when she releases her jaws from me; I land on it and my palm as I drop down.

The dog whimpers in pain and stumbles back a few steps to regard me warily, wondering if I am worth the trouble, then decides I am. She growls and lunges again with fangs bared. This time I uppercut her chin. Once her head is sent off-target, I roll myself over her and wrap an arm around her neck as I land on my side on the floor.

I make sure to face the blade in my hand away from her throat as I squeeze tightly. All four of her limbs flail in panic as the pressure increases, and I have to secure my hold on her with my other arm as well. I press strongly against the crucial vein and artery in her neck, then shove her away from me when she passes out.

I push myself back up to my knees in time to hear the target moving towards me from behind with determined footsteps. I dive to the side just a second before a gunshot rings loudly through the small apartment. She is clearly not as concerned about causing a commotion as I am.

The target mutters a curse over her missed shot as I swiftly get to my feet. I raise my knife in front of me in a defensive stance while favoring my good leg. The woman has her gun grasped in both hands but it is visibly shaking. We stand glaring at each other for a suspended moment to calculate the other’s next move.

In the next blink of an eye, I hurl my knife at her clasped hands and duck, and she squeezes the trigger again. The bullet flies harmlessly past me, but the target does not remain unscathed. The way she is now cradling a bleeding, empty hand to her chest tells me I was able to at least slice her fingers.

Her eyes widen as I stalk towards her, and she hastily squats down to retrieve her dropped weapon. My boot cracks down on her wrist as her wounded fingers close around the gun. She cries out in pain, but the sound is abruptly cut off by my knee connecting with her chest and knocking the wind from her. She falls to her butt and I shove my foot against her chest to get her all the way down to her back.

I straddle myself over her and sit down on her thighs to trap her legs between mine. Then I slip my own gun from behind my back and press the barrel of the silencer roughly against her temple. It might leave a questionable bruise behind, but she and her pet have pissed me off enough that I am willing to scrap the suicide idea and form a new cover-up later.

“You don’t have to do this,” she pleads.

My plan is to answer with a silencing shot to her brain, but her faithful pet saves her again by biting me just above my wrist and thrashing my arm wildly. My jacket prevents the teeth from puncturing my skin this time, but the dog is still successful shaking the gun out of my hand and sending it skittering across the floor.

I groan in aggravation and viciously poke each of the animal’s eyes with the fingers of my free hand to get her to release me again. Then I deliver a second punch to the same sore ribs from earlier and backhand her muzzle in two rapid motions. She slumps to the floor with a pitiful whimper. She attempts to rise twice again, but eventually lies defeated. Smart girl. If she comes at me again, I will probably just have to kill her. Though it would be easier to bury her than explain how a household pet sustained a fractured ribcage.

I roll my shoulders and jerk my head sharply to each side, neck cracking, then look down at my target again. “Where were we?” I taunt.

Her attention is focused elsewhere. The bleeding fingers of her right hand are scrabbling towards something below her on my left: her gun. I curse myself for not pinning her arms and shift my weight to stop her. She wisely takes advantage of the distraction she has caused by abandoning her pursuit of the gun entirely and grabbing me by the hair instead. She yanks as hard as she can, and the knuckles of her other hand collide with my teeth. My head rocks back, but my body remains in place - at least until she rears up to headbutt me.

I slide off of her, slightly dazed, and she scrambles to grab the gun and stand up. My foot darts out to kick her in the shin. The shake in her balance causes the bullet to embed in my left shoulder rather than my head.

A breathy, high-pitched cry bolts from my lungs at the impact. I raise a shaky hand up to the new hole in my jacket, but I know I don’t have time to examine the wound. I expect the target to take another shot any second, but when I look at her, she seems surprised that she shot me at all. Her mouth is agape and the gun is pointed loosely at the floor.

I spit out a buildup of bloody saliva and grit, “You stupid cunt. We just  _had_  to do this the hard way, huh?”

I whip my leg up and kick the gun straight out of her hand. It flies through the air and lands somewhere across the room. I get to my feet, get in her face, and grab her by the shirt. Her hands come up to grasp my clenched fists weakly, and fear widens in her eyes. The adrenaline in my body helps me ignore the horrible pains in my leg and shoulder as I sling her around the room with a furious strength. I eventually pin her against a windowsill and hurry to open it with one hand.

“It can still look like a suicide if I throw you out this goddamn window,” I find myself explaining to her.

Her head spins around to look behind her when the cool night air comes rushing in. Then she looks back at me and whimpers, “I know why you’re doing this, but you don’t have to. I was never  _really_  going to blow anything up. I swear.”

“The only way I can be sure of that is by killing you,” I state flatly.

She exhales a whine and looks around wildly for anything that can save her. I go to hoist her up, but she comes up with one last desperate plan.

She stabs two of her fingers squarely into the hole in my jacket where she already got me with the bullet, and I gasp at the fresh wave of pain it causes. My hold on her loosens enough for her to gain the upper hand and turn the tables on me.

 

* * *

##  **【Yoongi’s POV】**

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,_  my brain repeats on loop as I sprint furiously towards my falling boss.

“ _Kinsoo!_ ” It is unwise to shout her name when there may be witnesses about, but the sheer panic in my veins has clearly clouded my better judgement. I cannot remember the last time I was this afraid - if ever. “ _Kinsoo!_ ”

She turns her head to look at me, and one of her arms reaches out in a futile attempt to seek my help. Luckily, I was already in the parking lot when I saw her get thrown from the fourth story window, but I still may not be able to reach her in time.

 _She’s going to hit the ground before I can get to her,_  I deduce, but still I push my legs to race faster.

The last bit of distance between us closes surprisingly quickly. I fling myself forward, down onto the pavement, and stretch a hand out in time to catch her fragile skull. Her back lands with a solid smack, and her head bounces frighteningly against the thin cushion of my open palm.

I slowly - gingerly - slide my hand out from the back of her head, then hurriedly get to my knees. She lies motionless, just the way she landed. Her limbs do not appear to have any bones jutting out at unnatural angles, but there is blood around her mouth and a rip in her jacket that is unmistakably a bullet hole.

I quickly press an ear to her chest and am relieved when I hear a heartbeat. I did not hear her skull crack, but surely her brain was jostled from the blow of the fall; that, coupled with the impact on her spine, must be the cause of her unconscious state. She needs to be assessed by our physician back at Headquarters, and  _stat_.

I whip out my cell phone and call RM.

“Agent Suga,” he answers on the second ring.

“RM,” I huff. My breathlessness surprises me, even after my recent exertions. “We have an emergency. It’s the Headmistress... she’s injured, but I don’t know to what extent exactly. She’s unconscious.”

“Where is she?” he asks calmly.

“We’re outside in a parking lot.”

“In your car?”

“No.”

“Are you able to move her to your car to bring her to Headquarters?”

“I don’t know if that’s advisable,” I worry uncertainly. “She fell and landed pretty hard. We probably need a stretcher. I don’t want to risk causing more trauma by lifting her myself.”

“Understood. Just stay there with her. Are you secluded?”

I gaze around for the first time in a while. I see no passersby at the moment, but that mercy will probably not last. “Not really, no.”

RM grunts, and I cannot tell if it is in understanding or annoyance. “Okay. I’ll send Dr. Kim there right away.”

“You’ll probably need to send someone else to run cleanup on the scene, too. I don’t know if the target was even eliminated,” I mention, gazing skyward. There is no culprit standing in the windows above, but I’m guessing the Headmistress did not hurl  _herself_  from the building.

“You don’t know if the target was eliminated?” RM’s tone is not exactly condescending, but I can tell he is not pleased. Before I can answer him, he goes on, “Nevermind. Yes, I’ll have another agent run recon and finish the job if needed. Don’t try and do it yourself now; just stay with the Headmistress.”

“Don’t send her brother to do it, either,” I add, thinking quickly.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Agent V would snap my neck for even  _suggesting_  he be anywhere but by the Headmistress’ side right now when he finds out.”

We hang up and I look around again. I am still alone with my unconscious boss. I check her heartbeat again; it is noticeably slower now.

“Don’t worry, Miss,” I whisper aloud to her. I deem the action of lifting her hand safe, and do so to sandwich it between both of mine. “Everything is going to be fine. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure of it.”

With that promise made, I remember that I need to make one more phone call to a soon to be very frightened boyfriend.

 

* * *

##  **【Jungkook’s POV】**

The instant the peachy-blonde-haired man with dimples says it is OK to enter, I burst through the door to find two men arguing quietly with each other.

One of them - the taller one wearing pale blue scrubs - is hooking a bag of clear liquid onto a standing pole on one side of the bed. The fluid flows down through a tube and into a catheter stuck in a vein in Kinsoo’s arm. An EKG machine is also set up, beeping slowly but steadily.

“You’d better be right about this stuff not having any interactions with the vancomycin,” he mutters tersely to the other man standing directly behind him. “This is highly against my moral code as a physician, you know. I'm only allowing this because the Headmistress authorized any treatment necessary in the event her life was in danger, and she places a lot of trust in you.”

“It’s not like I can conduct human trials, Doctor,” grunts the shorter, dark-haired man with glasses. “But yes, I’m sure there won’t be any adverse effects. I’ve quadruple checked the chemical makeups of everything you’ve given her  _and_  what I’m advising you to give to her now. And you can’t tell me my predecessor would not also have done anything and everything in his power to save her.”

The taller man reels on him. “He would have given her his  _life_  if she asked him to.”

“Well, he  _did_  die, anyway.”

“ _Enough_ ,” rings out a third, deeper voice. It’s Taehyung.

I almost did not notice him there, sitting on the other side of the bed with one of Kinsoo’s hands in his. His eyes do not leave her face. He does not need to glare at the other two to get them to fall silent; the one word is sufficient.

Taehyung left me behind hours ago when we first arrived here at his and Kinsoo’s workplace. The man with dimples put up no fight when Taehyung blew past him in search of his sister, but when I tried to follow, I was met with a hand to my chest and a stern gray gaze. I started to explain to him who I was and that I had been called directly to come here, but his only answer was a short:  _“I know. I’ll tell you when.”_

But for all my impatience tonight, I cannot bring myself to even move from the doorway now. Not when I look at the state of my girlfriend.

She is lying on the hospital-like bed, stark naked save for the bandages around her left shoulder and right calf and the pads adhered to her chest, arms, and ankles that are hooked into the nearby EKG by wired clamps. Another catheter has been stuck between her legs where it disappears into her vagina, which I know does not bode well for her level of consciousness now or for the foreseeable future. Any discomfort I have with the three other men witnessing her like this is pushed away by my fear for her health.

Having finally noticed my presence, the man with glasses comes towards me. “You must be Jungkook.”

“What? Oh, y-yeah. That’s me,” I respond, struggling to even remember my name. I blink rapidly a few times and focus my eyes on him rather than Kinsoo’s scarily  vulnerable body.

“I’m the one who called you earlier. I’m Yoongi,” he introduces himself, but makes no attempt to shake my hand. He must understand how frozen I am. He jerks his chin over his shoulder and adds, “That’s Dr. Kim Seokjin over there. I’m so sorry. I know you must be worried sick.”

“Is she alright?” I only realize what a stupid question it is once I ask it.

“She’s stable, at least,” Yoongi answers.

“What, uh... what h-happened?”

Yoongi did not tell me any details over the phone. He said he was not in a safe enough place to do so. He only said that Kinsoo had named me as her emergency contact and that she had suffered a serious accident which warranted urgent medical attention. He said he would get her back to their headquarters as soon as possible and that I should come right away. That vague information alone was nearly enough to give me a heart attack. My mind immediately conjured horrifying images, and although Kinsoo  _appears_  relatively in tact, the situation is clearly still dire.

The man exhales and begins, “Guess I’ll start with the least worrisome injury and work my way up. For starters, she was bit by a dog on her leg. It’s pretty bruised and it was bleeding heavily, but it shouldn’t be bad enough to do any  _permanent_  muscle damage. It’s been thoroughly cleaned and she was given a rabies vaccine as a precaution. Dr. Kim also verified that she is up-to-date on her tetanus shot.”

“And her sh-shoulder?” I question without waiting for him to address it on his own.

“Gunshot wound,” he explains, and my knees nearly buckle. “Her clothing softened the impact enough so that the bullet didn’t pierce all the way through her body. It didn’t even hit bone, just the muscle. Kinsoo actually would have been able to pull it out herself, but Dr. Kim still had to remove some shreds of her clothing from the hole. She’s on vanc- uh, a strong antibiotic for that and for her leg. But... then there’s her back.”

“What’s wrong with her b-back?”

“She fell out of a four-story window and landed on it.” Yoongi ignores my gasp of shock and quickly continues, “I don’t know  _how_ , but by some miracle, she only fractured two vertebrae and didn’t sustain any damage to her spinal cord at all. Dr. Kim performed surgery to fuse the broken bones and says they’ll heal fine on their own from there. She’ll need a brace for a few weeks and then physical therapy afterwards, but she won’t be paralyzed or anything. Her, uh... her coma, however, is due to the swelling around her brain from the fall. That’s the main concern with her health right now.”

“This man here saved her life,” the man in scrubs chimes in as he steps over to us. His hairline is sweaty, and he shoves the damp brown locks away from his forehead. He regards Yoongi more respectfully than his earlier tone suggested. “If Yoongi hadn’t literally dived in at the last second like he says he did, Kinsoo’s skull surely would have cracked like an egg.”

Yoongi nods gravely without a hint of pride for his heroism. “And I’m  _telling_  you, Doctor: what I gave you will help immensely with the swelling. She herself would vouch for that if she could. Like you said: she trusts me.”

“Mm. Well, if it’s as potent and side-effect-free as you claim, I estimate she will not be comatose for more than two weeks. But of course these things are never certain. She could end up remaining in a coma for a year.”

“A  _year_?!” I can’t help but blurt. My eyes swivel back to Kinsoo. Neither she nor Taehyung appear to have moved an inch, but he has begun murmuring to her.

“Head injuries - even when softened - are a very serious thing, I’m afraid,” the doctor confirms solemnly. “Fortunately, she is still able to breathe on her own, so there is no lack of oxygen to her brain. There is also no  _bleeding_  in her brain, but the tissue is quite swollen, like we’ve mentioned. The pressure may cause long-term or even permanent damage to her memory, her motor skills, and-or her personality, especially the longer it lasts.”

“Not if-”

The doctor raises a hand to calm Yoongi’s protest. “Yes, I know, Agent. Not if this ‘prescription’ of yours works as intended.”

“Let’s hope it does,” I say numbly. The thought of Kinsoo suffering amnesia or behaving like a different person or becoming a vegetable is nearly unbearable.

The doctor claps a hand on my shoulder comfortingly, then leaves the room without another word.

Yoongi meets my eyes and says, “She’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

And although I have just met him, I believe him.

He exits as well, leaving Taehyung and I alone with Kinsoo.

I grab another chair and take my place on the other side of her bed next to the IV pole and the steadily beeping heart monitor. Taehyung’s gaze has not dropped from her face, but I still feel compelled to pull the thin white blanket up from her feet - minding all of the tubes and wires - and drape it up to her chest to protect her modesty. The other man does not seem to notice the motion, even as the sheet brushes against his arm.

I pull Kinsoo’s other hand into mine and bring it up to run her knuckles across my lips. Her own mouth looks a bit bruised; I lean over and kiss it softly. A part of me hopes that she will wake up either Snow White or Sleeping Beauty-style when my lips meet hers, but she does not stir.

“She  _will_  be okay,” Taehyung speaks up without looking at me. “Agent Suga is good at what he does.”

“Who?”

“Yoongi, I mean. He’s good. We can trust him - and Seokjin - with Kiki’s life. She’ll pull through. She’s strong. And she’s not allowed to die without me.”

His simultaneously sweet and morbid last statement makes me realize just how much he truly, deeply cares about his sister. I wonder if she and I will ever have the same sort of bond.

“You two are really close, aren’t you?” is all I can think to say.

He manages a small, tight smile. “We are. We always have been. We always  _will_  be.”

I can tell he is working to keep himself cool and collected, so I try to find some words of comfort for him. “I think that’s really cool. Honestly, I think you might be her favorite person, even if she teases or nags you a lot. She only does it because she loves you.”

For the first time since we left Kinsoo’s house ( _mine_  and Kinsoo’s house now), Taehyung looks at me. His green eyes - so much like the ones that I wish would open right now - have a shiny wet sheen to them, but no tears are spilling. He studies my face, and I find myself incapable of looking away from him as he does.

He eventually drops his gaze and whispers, “She loves you, too.”

I hum, and the two of us watch unwaveringly over Kinsoo through the rest of the night.

 

* * *

##  **【Kinsoo’s POV】**

A multitude of sensations threaten to overwhelm and beat me back into darkness when my eyelids flutter open. The too-bright light, the ache in my shoulder, the throb in my leg, the tightness in my back, the pounding in my head, the discomforting nausea, the cloying stench of pricey cologne in the air.

I groan and un-velcro my tongue from the roof of my mouth to try and wet my lips, but there is little moisture to be had.

“ _Heyyy,_ ” drawls a voice from my left. “Looks like  _some_ one is back amongst the living.”

 

It takes about half a minute of slow blinks before someone with tousled wine-colored hair and a crooked smile swims into vision.

“Sir,” I croak dryly. “Wh-where are we?”

Sanghyuk’s smile widens. “You call me ‘sir,’ but do you really remember me? Your doctor said you may experience some memory loss after waking up.”

It is just like him to answer one of my questions with a question of his own.

“Trust me, sir, I remember you. Where are we?”

“In the medical ward here in your Headquarters. It seems your field skills have gotten rusty.”

I ignore the jab. “How long have I been here?”

“A little less than two weeks. Twelve days, to be exact.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Why, you were gravely injured, Kinsoo! I’m here because I’m concerned for you, of course.”

I grunt with disbelief at the latter statement. “How h-hurt am I?”

“Considering you’re awake, I’d say not as badly as you were a couple weeks ago, but surely still rather seriously. Couple broken vertebrae, a concussion, gunshot wound, a...  _dog bite_.” The last one is amusing to him. “Dr. Kim patched you up, and your chemist gave him some things to help speed up your recovery. How do you feel?”

I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly while taking a moment to focus on each injury site. “Like hell,” I decide.

“You survived, though. Your strength is commendable, Kinsoo. I mean that with sincerity.”

I ignore the praise. “W-what happened to the target?”

“Ah, yes. The target. I wasn’t sure you’d want to speak of that until you were feeling a bit better.”

“We both know damn well that that’s the reason you’re really here, Sanghyuk,” I bite. “I failed to eliminate her, and you’re here to punish me for it.”

A terrible thought crashes into mind, and I nearly bolt upwards out of bed, but Sanghyuk is quick to rise from his chair and slap a hand against my chest to push me back down. He chuckles quietly.

“I’m not a doctor, but I highly doubt abrupt movement is good for your back, hon. I know what you’re concerned about, though. Don’t worry, your boy is fine. I haven’t carved his face. You have my word.”

“I need to see him,” I demand.

“You will. He’s around here somewhere. He never leaves your side, but I insisted. He can come back in after we’ve discussed your failure, since you’ve expressed that you want to.”

I eye him warily but relax my muscles against the mattress again as I wait for him to say whatever he is going to say to berate me. My heartrate has quickened considerably, which only makes the pounding in my head worse.

“So?” I prompt.

Sanghyuk sighs, sits back down, and crosses an ankle over his opposite knee while examining his fingernails in a rather bored manner.

“Everything has been cleaned up for you - again,” he begins. “Except neither your chemist nor another agent of yours were able to eliminate the target in the same night, which is  _very_  unfortunate, because in the meantime, Miss Kang made good on one of her threats and detonated the bank on Capital and Dreary. Two people died and nearly a dozen more were injured.”

I swallow thickly and fight off a fresh wave of dizzying nausea. “Sir, I-”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses.” He snaps his chilling eyes back to me. They are furious as an ocean storm. “Your failure to pay off your debt to me cost that couple their  _lives_. I don’t care if you think the casualty tally is low in the grand scheme of things. As far as I’m concerned, those innocent lives are on  _you_ , Kinsoo.”

I wonder if it really was a romantically-involved couple who got killed, or if he is only trying to evoke stronger remorse from me by saying that. Either way, it works.

“So when are you going to punish me, then?” I goad, ignoring the burn of saltwater in my eyes. “I hate to admit it, but now is probably a great time. I’ve never been weaker.”

He clicks his tongue a few times in disappointment, and the storm in his eyes subsides. The corners of them even wrinkle when he smiles again.

“Now, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, would it? I wouldn’t  _dream_  of taking advantage of you at this terrible time in your life, although you  _do_  desperately need to learn the price of failure. Your debt will never be paid off at this rate, eh? My patience is wearing thin, but you should regain your strength before I break you with your punishment. I won’t be telling you when it’s coming, either. That would be no fun at all.” He stands from his chair and carefully buttons his suit jacket before patting my injured shoulder. I suck in a sharp breath rather than exhaling one in a cry. “But rest assured, retribution  _will_  come, and it  _will_  be painful.”

After Sanghyuk leaves me, a few minutes pass before someone else enters the room. It isn’t Jungkook, as I was expecting, but the tall man is still a very welcome sight.

Seokjin’s handsome face breaks into a wide, warm smile. “It is  _so_  good to see you awake, Miss. I wasn’t sure if I could dare believe Mr. Han when he told me in the hall just now.”

“Well, I’m sure I have  _you_  to thank for my life,” I smile back.

He strides towards me with a few pieces of equipment in hand. “I did have to put a couple pieces of your spine back together, but you should really thank our talented chemist.  _He’s_  the one who really saved your life.”

He elaborates on the injuries Sanghyuk had just mentioned to me and recounts the events of the fall as told to him by Yoongi, and my eyes widen in awe at the story.

“Yoongi really saved me like that?”

“Mhm.” Seokjin gingerly lifts one of my arms and ties a thin strap of rubber around my lower bicep. “Can you make a fist for me, please? I’m just drawing a blood sample to run some labs.”

I do as he asks but it does not seem to present the results he was expecting. He sighs quietly and pokes his warm fingers along my inner elbow. “Your veins aren’t being very cooperative today. You’re a bit dehydrated, even with the IV fluids I’ve been administering. I’ll have to ask Yoongi about that.”

“What’s the matter, Seokjin?” Yoongi inquires as he enters the room, evidently having overheard the end of the conversation. He soon freezes when he notices that  _I_  am the one Seokjin is conversing with. His black-clad figure is an equally welcome sight.

“Headmistress… You’re awake,” he observes calmly.

“I am, and I heard you’re the man to thank for that.”

I feel a small pinch in my arm and look down to see that Seokjin has made successful contact with a vein at last. He draws the blood he needs, removes the tourniquet, and bandages the tiny puncture with swift, practiced movements.

Meanwhile, Yoongi comes closer to my bedside with a somewhat bashful expression. “I did what I could, but… you still kind of broke.”

“Little bit,” I agree with a faint smile.

“I’ll get you something for the pain, Miss,” Seokjin offers. “Yoongi, would you recommend morphine or dilaudid in conjunction with your own treatment?”

To hear Seokjin deferring to someone else’s professional advice like this is strange, but I suppose if there is anyone else’s advice I would trust right now, it is Yoongi’s.

Yoongi closes his eyes and begins muttering to himself. Drug ingredients, it sounds like. “Either are fine,” he eventually concludes.

“You’re sure?”

“Yup. Positive.”

Seokjin nods at him, then at me. “I’ll run some scans on you later to examine your head and your back again, Miss. Don’t worry, we’ll get you better.”

“I know,” I nod.

He goes to process my bloodwork and leaves Yoongi and I alone.

“I don’t know how to thank you for what you did and what you’re doing, Yoongi. I don’t know what to say,” I admit.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs without looking at me. He brings his scarred hand up to the bed and taps the back of my hand gently with his forefinger. I take it as his way of comforting me.

After a moment, I mention, “Sanghyuk said Jungkook is here?”

“He is. I think he’s only left the building for approximately two whole hours in the last twelve days.”

I am pleasantly surprised to hear him verify that Sanghyuk was not lying.

“And... Taehyung?” I ask, heart racing.

Yoongi locks his eyes on mine. “He’s been as devout about staying by your side as Jungkook, but unfortunately he is not here at the moment. He only left because I asked him to retrieve some, ah…  _ingredients_  for me. Some things to help your recovery. He wouldn’t have left for anything less. Believe me.”

My twin’s absence is extremely disappointing, but I nod in understanding and ask Yoongi to please send Jungkook in now. In the interval between his departure and Jungkook’s appearance, my stomach flutters in anticipation at seeing him.

From the shadows under his eyes, my boyfriend appears very tired, but also unharmed, just as Sanghyuk promised. I choke on a swallowed sob of pure relief and reach out to him weakly with my good arm.

“ _Sweetheart! Oh my God!_ ” he gushes the moment he sees me. I guess Yoongi left my reawakening to be a surprise for him.

Jungkook rushes forward in three long steps and grabs my outstretched hand. He kisses the back of it, my palm, each knuckle, and each fingertip firmly. “Oh my God, you’re awake! Thank God, thank  _God!_ ”

“Are you okay?” is the first thing I ask him.

“Wha-  _me?_ ” He laughs shakily at the odd question. “Why in the world are you asking about  _me?_  I’m fine! Are  _you_  okay? God, you must be in so much pain. They weren’t giving you anything for it while you were… while you were out, but I can see if-”

“Seokjin has already gone to get me something, but I want to make sure  _you’re_  not hurt. Did the man in the suit do anything to hurt you? Did he threaten you? Did anyone  _else_  hurt or threaten you?”

“What? Why would they?”

“Just answer me, Jungkook,  _please!_ ” I beg, squeezing his hand as tightly as I can with trembling fingers.

He becomes startled by my outburst and pats my hand clumsily in reassurance. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s okay. I’m fine. Nobody’s hurt me or threatened me.” His lips twitch for a second and his eyes roll upwards as he recalls something. “Well, I mean,  _Jimin_  is about ready to cancel our friendship since I missed the competition last weekend, but other than that, I’m good.”

I observe his face closely for signs of falsehood. Sanghyuk could have intimidated him into silence, or Jungkook could have taken it upon himself to lie so as not to worry me. But he seems to still be honest to a fault.

I tug him down and kiss him fervently.

“Mmph. Don’t wanna hurt you,” he mumbles worriedly against my lips, but I lock my other hand behind his head to keep him in place - disregarding the pang in my shoulder - and he soon gives in.

When I suck my mouth away from his, I say, “I’m going to keep you safe, Jungkook. No matter what it takes, I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

 

* * *

********「**** _Five Months Later_ 」** **

Taehyung attempts to guide me into the passenger seat of his car, but I wave him off stubbornly. “I’m fine, Tae,” I grunt as I ease myself onto the leather seat.

He holds his hands up in apologetic offense, then shuts my door for me and walks around to get in the driver’s seat.

“You’re definitely stronger than you were a month ago. Physical therapy used to wear you out. You might not even need it anymore,” he mentions while starting the engine.

I light a cigarette and lower the window to discard the ash.“Maybe not, but Seokjin insists.”

Taehyung eyes the street before merging onto it. “He still has trouble admitting that Agent Suga is a miracle worker for everything he’s done to help your recovery. The guy could seriously market his…  _super steroids_ , or whatever, to the pharmaceutical companies and make some serious bank.”

“He’s already getting paid a fortune from  _me_ ,” I point out with an amused smile.

“I just can’t thank him enough for saving your life in the first place,” Tae goes on. “If you really need a boyfriend, why don’t you date  _him_?”

I laugh heartily in a cloud of smoke. “You know Yoongi already has a girl. They’re getting married in November. December? One of the two. I can’t remember.”

Taehyung looks over at me in concern because he knows I used to remember every detail about everything. Yoongi is brilliant, but evidently he is still not able to produce something that can fully repair damaged brain neurons. But other than a bit of forgetfulness, I am in good health and improving every day.

“Guess I’ll just take you home to your actual boyfriend then,” sighs Tae. He slumps one wrist atop the steering wheel and rests his other hand in his lap as he accelerates.

Even though his time spent in the summer sun has been scarce while caring for me, his skin still has a nice golden hue to it. His hair is no longer silver because  _mine_  is no longer silver. Keeping up with dyeing it has not been a priority of mine lately, so I changed it back to its natural dark brown color, and Tae followed suit, as per our little tradition.

He is still as gorgeous as ever. Maybe even more so these days.

I can still distinctly recall telling him that I did not want to sneak around with him behind Jungkook’s back anymore. So far, I have been able to stick to my word, and Tae has been respectful of my wishes, but every day is a struggle.

It is very odd having a “normal” brother-sister relationship with him. Every platonic touch he places on me sizzles my skin. I find myself moving to kiss him several times a day, and I always have to restrain myself at the last second. I even almost did it in front of Jungkook once, and I had to wonder if my brain was more damaged than I knew.

Right this moment, I want to reach over and take Taehyung’s hand in mine to twine our fingers together. On the other side of the spectrum, I am also imagining asking him to pull over so I can climb onto his lap and fuck his brains out right there in the driver’s seat. What a great way to test my body’s durability  _that_  would be.

Rather than doing any of that, I suck a final drag off my cigarette, flick it out the open window, and turn my thoughts to Jungkook instead. I’ve gone so far as to assign a trio of my most trusted agents to take shifts watching over him at all times so they can keep an extra pair of eyes out for an attack from Sanghyuk. Jungkook doesn’t know I’ve done that. I doubt he’d approve or be comfortable with that. But he’ll never even know they’re there unless he has reason to need them.

I wish I didn’t need to do that. I wish I could just kill Sanghyuk and live peacefully with Jungkook while still pining after Taehyung. Maybe one day I will.

Taehyung pulls into my driveway and puts the car in park. Then he looks over at me and asks, “Will you be alright by yourself until Jungkook gets back?” He has not referred to my boyfriend as my  _“boy toy”_  or my  _“pet”_  once since I woke up.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I say. “He’ll be home soon. I think I’ll just soak in the tub for a while and soothe my muscles.”

I meet his gaze and we stare at each other for an extended moment. When his eyes dip down to my lips and stay there, I know he wants to kiss me. If he kissed me, I would not resist him. If he insisted on coming inside to help me up the stairs and into the tub, I would not let him leave until he had fucked me until my back was nearly broken again. Ever since the first time we made love, we have never gone this long without touching, kissing, or having sex with each other.

He leans forward and brings his hand up to hover an inch from my cheek. I silently exult at the thought that he has developed the ability to read my mind the way people like to joke twins can. He comes close enough that I can taste his breath and count each of his long eyelashes.

But then he fists his fingers, purses his lips, and pulls back again.

“Have a good night, Kiki.”

With a sunken heart, I watch him drive away until he is out of sight, then sigh and enter my home. The air has traces of Jungkook’s scent, and I am grateful for the way it takes my mind off my brother, if only for a little while.

I still take my time on the staircase. Things were rough in the beginning when my leg was still hurting and my shoulder prevented me from wielding a cane like I should have, not to mention the tight pain in my back. Taehyung or Jungkook had to help me everywhere; sometimes both of them together. I suppose it could have been a little bonding experience for them, caring for their shared lover.

Picture frames line the walls of mine and Jungkook’s home. I am not featured in all of them, but Jungkook is, along with his friends and family. He has hardly seen any of them over the past several months. I’m sure the  _“My girlfriend was in a car accident, she needs me right now,”_ excuse is getting old to them, but Jungkook has been resolute in his devotion to my care.

I am actually glad to have a little time to myself right now. I am not used to having someone hovering and fretting over me all the time; there was certainly none of that in my upbringing. Independence was something I learned from too young of an age, and it is a hard habit to break.

I make it to the bedroom and into the bathroom where I shed my clothing piece by piece. The sight of the gunshot wound in the mirror makes me grimace, but I know it would look a lot worse still if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s added assistance to Seokjin’s treatments. There are little brown spots on my calf from where the dog’s teeth punctured me, but the bruises are long healed. I arch my back, then bend forward towards my toes. I cannot touch them yet, but I am getting closer.

The damage to my psyche is not as easily repaired as my bones and my flesh. I no longer dart my eyes in every direction at all times in fear that Sanghyuk will appear out of nowhere to exact his punishment on me, but I do still jump every time the phone rings or there is a knock on my office door (as if he would do me the courtesy of calling or knocking first). I lie awake at night - sometimes all the way through - and simply watch Jungkook sleep. I study every breath he takes and every crease that crosses his face when he dreams. When I  _do_  sleep and he is not beside me when I wake, I have a mild panic attack until I find him in the bathroom or the living room or the kitchen.

Sighing heavily, I card my fingers through my hair and pin it up loosely. Then I light a few candles as the tub fills with water.

Five minutes into becoming a prune, I hear the garage door open to announce Jungkook’s return. Of course, his hired companion is silent, but I know she is out there, close but hidden. I wish I could release her and the others from their duty as soon as their charge comes under my care, but I am not certain that I am strong enough to protect him on my own yet.

“Babe? I’m home!”

“I’m upstairs!”

Jungkook’s footsteps migrate towards the stairs and trudge up them. He comes to the doorway of the bathroom and leans against the frame, folding his arms over his chest. The bulge of his arm and chest muscles press against his tight white t-shirt. It is easier to forget my lust for my brother when Jungkook is standing in front of me looking like this.

“Well,  _this_  is certainly a nice sight to come home to,” he comments with a smile.

I grin back, happy that he is enjoying his view, too. “Want to join me?”

“Absolutely.”

He strips quickly and climbs into the tub to sit behind me. I settle myself between his legs and rest against his chest. My head tucks into the space between his neck and shoulder, and he hugs his arms around my middle beneath the water.

“How was your day?” I ask before he can do the same.

“It was good. The new dance routine is going well.”

“Yeah? Think you’ll be able to make the next competition?”

He snorts at my joke. “ _Ye-eah_ , I think so. And I think I’ve  _finally_  gotten Jimin to forgive me for missing the last one, too.”

“You didn’t  _actually_  tell him your girlfriend got shot and thrown out of a window, did you?” I smirk.

“ _Noo_ , of course not. I told him you’re a giant puss who got bit on the ankle by a chihuahua and fainted herself into a coma from the sight of a little blood.”

I burst out laughing and reach back to swat at his ear. “You little shit!”

Jungkook giggles and squeezes me tighter. “I’m kidding, babe. You’re a total badass. But seriously - don’t  _ever_  get shot or thrown out of a window again. That was the scariest thing I’ve ever gone through in my entire life.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve put myself back on inactive duty when it comes to the field,” I assure him. I scratch my nails lightly against one of his rippled thighs. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, though. You’ve been very kind and patient.”

The water sloshes as he shifts, and I feel his cock twitch involuntarily against my lower back. I smile and knead his leg in gentle squeezes, twisting my arm behind me as I work higher and higher.

“It’s been no trouble, sweetheart,” he says in a breathy tone, and his knees fall open as wide as they can against the sides of the tub as my touch begins affecting him further. “No trouble at all. I’d do anything for you. Maybe one day I can put those care-taking skills to use on our kids.”

My fingers come to a complete stop just before I reach his balls. To hear that he is thinking so far ahead as to planning a  _family_  with me comes as an utter shock.

“ _Kids?_ ” I manage to keep my voice from squeaking, but there is hardly any volume to it.

“I don’t mean  _‘Let’s make a baby right now!’_  But I’d like to have kids  _some_ day. Wouldn’t you?”

My head spins from the abrupt shift in direction of our conversation. He tickles my stomach lightly, and my insides squirm. I swallow hard and bring my arm back around to press down on his hand and stop the movement.

“I was pregnant once,” I share softly. “I… I lost it, though.”

Jungkook pulls his head back from my shoulder, and I know he is looking at me curiously, but I don’t turn to face him. I can’t.

“What? When?” he demands to know. He retracts his hand from my stomach as if unsettled by it now.

“It wasn’t yours,” I clarify. “It was three years ago.”

“You never told me that.”

I gulp through a tightened throat. “I was engaged, too. But he… he left me. The miscarriage was too much for him.”

I am saying too much that is unsolicited, but the words bubble up like belches. They are impossible to hold down.

“Oh, sweetheart,” sighs Jungkook, and the compassion in his tone brings tears to my eyes. He leans into me again and kisses the side of my head twice. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful. You should talk to me about things like that. You can tell me anything, you know? I  _want_  to know everything about you, even the bad memories. Especially if I’m going to ask you to marry me someday.”

“ _Marry_  you? You want to ask me to  _marry_  you?” I don’t know what my tone sounds like exactly, but it does not seem to offend him.

“Well, I guess it depends on what your answer would be.” He giggles again, but there are nervous undertones in the sound now.

This time the words are like vomit. “Could you really marry a woman who has been cheating on you?”

All of his muscles stiffen. The water in the tub turns icy, or maybe it’s the blood in my veins.

“Cheat-  _what?_  What did you say?”

I take a deep breath. “I’ve been cheating on you the entire time we’ve been together, Jungkook.”

 _Did my concussion damage the part of my brain that is supposed to manage common sense?_  After all, my seemingly number one rule about  _everything_  is:  _Don’t. Get. Caught._

Yet here I am, freely confessing, because I can’t do it. I can’t enter another engagement with this secret inside me. But now that it has been lifted, it hangs over my head like a guillotine with Jungkook standing by as my executioner.

“With the guy who got you pregnant?” he guesses bitterly.

I tell him no, but that could be a lie. I don't know the actual answer. Not for certain.

“Is it someone I know?” His tone is flat now. Totally devoid of emotion. When almost a full minute passes and I don’t answer him, he follows-up with: “Is it one of your agents?”

I at least have enough sense left to not name Taehyung as the other man. My loose tongue has stiffened.

Jungkook takes my continued silence for affirmation. He stands and steps out of the tub to stare down at me. His arms shake, even when he clenches his hands into fists. I could still break his arm if he took a swing at me, but I also know that I would not dare move a muscle. There is such pain and anger in his face that I - a woman who spent her childhood witnessing a man senselessly beat his wife, son, and daughter - would actually  _urge_  him to release some of it.

“I loved you  _so much_ , Kinsoo,” he whispers slowly and carefully. “Why couldn’t you just love me back? Why couldn’t you just give me your heart?” His voice breaks on the last word, and so does the heart in question.

I want to plead that I  _do_  love him. That I have let him take more of my heart than I should have. That he can’t walk out the door on me now because he’s not safe without me.

But he’s not safe  _with_  me, either.

So I let him go without a single word of protest or persuasion.

The slam of the door rattles my spine.

 

* * *

 

 

Copyright © 2018 - 2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


	7. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinsoo struggles to cope with what she has done. Taehyung and Jungkook find themselves together in a precarious situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings & Features: dream sequence; profanity; smoking; mentions of some blood and gore; mentions of fetus death (not abortion); some stalking; very light and unintentional self-inflicted physical harm; some sci-fi elements; implied sexual content; mentions of infidelity; mentions of explicit incest; brief instances of violence and gun usage; kidnapping; betrayal; appearance by Hyuk of VIXX
> 
> **AS OF MARCH 15, 2019: LEE SEUNGHYUN ('SEUNGRI' OF BIGBANG) HAS BEEN REPLACED BY HAN SANGHYUK ('HYUK' OF VIXX)

##  **【Kinsoo’s POV】**

_I deserve to be in this horrible, painful, gruesome mess. It is time to pay for my sins._

The hunter wrenches the knife from my softly swollen stomach one final time, spits a parting sentiment onto my cheek to top off his handiwork, then leaves me here to die on the frozen ground.

I lift a trembling hand to rest atop the mutilated mush of sticky flesh that used to be my abdomen. What a pathetic shield it turned out to be for the child that had been growing within. The weight of that tragic loss hits me hard; it is infinitely more painful than any of my physical wounds.

Perhaps it is for the best. This baby would have had a monster for a mother.

Hot tears steam in the frigid air as they trickle down my cheeks, and the combined scent of salt and copper on the wind brings me company.

First, a timid soul comes sniffing at my carnaged body. He is kind and curious, and I can sense a gentleness within him not so different from the purity my dead baby would have possessed. He both endears and scares me, so I shove him away with all the strength left in me in the hopes that he will not be met with the same cruel fate as me or my child. He recoils in fright and leaves sullenly.

Next, someone poised comes. He kneels down and brushes the matted hair from my forehead. His touch feels like home, and I become overwhelmed with the desire to lose myself in it. Before I can, he examines the state I am in and deems the task of repairing me too exhausting to have to do it again. He leaves, too, and I share in his disappointment.

Last, a dark figure with pale skin approaches silently and hovers over me. His fingers are rough and ice cold as they reach down to grasp my chin and tilt my face towards him. I would not have expected anyone less than Death himself to come and claim me in the end. His presence is a great relief.

 _“Don’t be afraid.”_  His voice is soft, soothing, and familiar.  _“Everything will be fine…”_

I jerk awake with a gasp, alert and already halfway propped up on the mattress with one elbow. Panting heavily, I slide a hand under the hem of my tank top to grope at my stomach. For a second I am horrified to actually find it sticky, but I realize it is just sweat. I am uninjured. It was all just The Dream - with an added “epilogue” this time, it seems.

I breathe a sigh of equal parts relief and frustration and slump back down on the mattress. My forehead feels clammy when I cup my palm over it. When my heartrate calms, I turn and reach out to the other side of the bed. It is cold and vacant, just as it has been for the past two weeks. I stare at it with blank detachment.

For months after Hoseok’s death, I would be sobbing from the moment I woke from my horrid nightmare. If Taehyung was with me, he could typically calm me down within a few minutes with some soothing words, gentle touches, and tender eye contact, but usually it would take nothing short of me passing out from exhaustion for the sobs to stop.

There have been no tears since Jungkook left, which is a direct and peculiar contradiction to how much worse the loneliness feels this time around. Maybe because unlike Hoseok, Jungkook is still out there, but it is worse because I both can and cannot talk to him. He is available yet unavailable to me. And it is all my fault.

I wonder if Jungkook has had nightmares about  _me_  that keep him awake at night. I wonder where he is right now and what he is doing. Is he wallowing in misery like I am? Is he out having a night on the town, picking up another woman in another bar to take his mind off of me? Is he thinking of me at all?

Just as it has every day since he left, my anxious curiosity gets the better of me. I grab my cell phone from the nightstand to make a call.

“Yes, Miss?” my agent answers after just the first ring.

I always ask the same question first: “Is he safe?”

“Yes,” CL affirms.

“You have visual on him?” I press, unconsciously clutching my phone just a little tighter.

“Yes, of course,” she huffs. She is annoyed with still being assigned to something as low as guard duty, but I don’t pay her to question or disobey orders - even if I  _do_  feel guilty instructing her to do my selfish and paranoid bidding.

I  _want_  to believe that Jungkook no longer needs my protection now that we are not together anymore, but it would be foolish to take that chance. It hasn’t been long, but I have to assume Sanghyuk is aware of the breakup, and he is far too smart to think I stopped caring about my ex-boyfriend altogether. He may even suspect the whole thing is a ruse to trick him into thinking that way.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Is he alone? What is he doing?”

It must be The Dream that has elicited the extra worry from me tonight. These are things I usually do  _not_  ask when checking up on Jungkook, but tonight I can’t help it. Tonight I want to feel some semblance of closeness to him in any pitiful way I can.

CL clears her throat lightly and hesitates to answer, but she cannot deny my direct inquiries. “He’s just entered his apartment with a young woman.”

My heart trips and falls. “The dancer from his studio?”

“Yes, Miss.” Now her tone carries a hint of friend-to-friend sympathy that chokes me up nearly as much as the realization of what Jungkook is doing.

I was just thinking of how he may very well be with another woman right now, but I did not expect it to be true. It does not seem like him at all. He is free to do whatever he wants, of course, but I had hoped our relationship meant more to him than rebounding after just a couple weeks. Perhaps it was naive of me to think he was more wholesome than this. Perhaps it was arrogant of me to think of myself as not so easily replaced.

“Miss?” CL’s voice floats gently into my ear to interrupt my thoughts.

“Thank you. That’s all,” I mutter and hang up, lightly flinging my phone across the mattress.

I inhale a slow, deep breath, roll over onto my stomach, and shove my face in one of my pillows. The backs of my eyelids promptly flash me a crude and cruel image of Jungkook piledriving Chaeyoung into his mattress. I wince and turn onto my back to stare at something real - like the ceiling - instead, but my mind can still picture the purely ecstatic expression the pretty young girl must be wearing while with my ex.

After a while longer of ruminating and tormenting myself, I pull myself out of bed, stretch my stiff back, and shuffle into the bathroom. I splash some cool water on my face at the sink, then rummage through the cabinets and drawers for something that might be quick about sending me back into unconsciousness, but there is no such thing to be found.

Disappointed, I return to my bedroom and lean across the bed to retrieve my phone and check the time. It reads  _00:57_. I look down at my mattress and grimace. Through no fault of its own, it does not look particularly cozy or inviting anymore - not when I think of what Jungkook is doing on top of his - so I head downstairs with my phone in hand instead.

As I go, I turn on more lights than necessary in an effort to bring artificial feelings of life and comfort into the emptiness of my home. In the kitchen, I pour myself a generous glass of wine and bring it with me into the living room where I take a seat on the couch.

I tuck my legs under me and sip my drink while I flick on the television and flip through the channels. An action movie catches my attention and temporarily succeeds in providing me with a distraction, at least until a high-speed car chase involving unnecessarily-heavy artillery ensues and I think of how much Jungkook would enjoy watching this.

I turn the television back off with a sigh. It was a useless venture to try and shift my mind from him when his presence is hanging heavily around me; not just in my thoughts, but also from the photos still displayed around the house. My favorite is right in the center of the mantle over the fireplace: the one he took of us in his dance studio. His happy smile is beaming behind the glass case of the frame, but all I can see is the way his face contorted in a scowl from the pain of my betrayal.

Before I know it,  _all_  of the picture frames on the mantle have been knocked over to hide their housed photos. My chest is heaving again and my cheeks are hot. My eyes are burning, too, but still stubbornly dry.

In place of the sobs that will not come, I fall to my knees and release a loud shout; it rings throughout the entirety of my empty home. I slump forward under the weight of all my frustration and bury my face in my hands against the floor as a quieter but equally pained groan rumbles through me. My nails drag down my cheeks as my fingers slowly fist themselves of their own accord. Eventually I fall onto my side and curl in on myself, hugging my knees to my chest as though to make myself as small and pathetic as I feel inside.

I cannot blame Jungkook for this despair, either. I cannot blame Chaeyoung. I cannot blame Sanghyuk. I cannot blame anyone. Only myself. It’s all  _my_  fault I feel this way. It’s all  _my_  fault for thinking I could try and have it all again - the normal life  _and_  the life I was born to live.

I lie that way until my back begins to stiffen again, then peel myself off the floor. My leg wobbles, and I have to lean against the mantle for a few moments to steady myself before going to refill my wine glass higher this time.

When I am settled back on the couch, I open the “call” function on my phone again where my thumb automatically moves to hover over my brother’s name.

If I just called him, I wouldn’t have to be alone right now. I wouldn’t have to be quite so miserable. He could provide me with real emotional support, rather than just the distraction Chaeyoung is giving Jungkook right now. At least, that’s what I am telling myself it is: just a distraction.

Taehyung was there with me for the deaths of both our parents and our grandmother (not that we particularly cared about two of them, and  _he_  was the one responsible for one of those deaths). He was there with me after my miscarriage and the death of my fiancé. After all that, certainly he could handle comforting me during a comparably silly little breakup.

But he doesn’t know about it yet. I haven’t told him. And as I hesitate to tap the button to call him, I realize I  _still_  can’t bring myself to tell him that I’ve ruined everything again, just like he knew would happen eventually. I can’t handle the  _I-told-you-so’s_  right now.

Of course I won’t be able to hide it from him forever, but I can wait at least one more night.

I call someone else.

 

* * *

 

He arrives at my front door just twenty minutes later. He seems to have what I want in his hand, but I make no move to take it yet. First, I politely ask him to come inside.

“I feel like I should be asking for ‘on-call’ pay for this,” Yoongi comments as I close the door behind him.

I manage a light breath of laughter. “That’s certainly a fair request.”

“Only joking, Miss...” He trails off and creases his brow when he gets a proper look at me.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask in concern over his worried expression.

Without speaking or taking his dark eyes off me, he lifts a delicate finger to hold it up sideways and vertically in front of my nose, then bends it at a slight angle. It takes me a few seconds to comprehend the gesture before I turn my head to the side like he wants. After another couple seconds, he connects the tip of his raised finger to the side of my chin with the faintest touch, then presses gently to get me to rotate my head the other way.

“Yoongi, what the-”

“Your face,” he says vaguely, dropping his hand away from me.

I touch my own fingers to one of my cheeks and feel a distinct sting on my skin. I hadn’t realized how hard I had unintentionally scratched myself earlier.

“Oh, that,” I mutter in embarrassment. I examine my fingertips to see if they come away bloody, but they are dry.

“Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing, really. Not even bleeding.”

“I’m not just talking about the scratches, Miss.”

I smile wanly at his kindness. Part of me wants to unload all of my emotional burdens onto him, but that would not be fair. Instead, I change the subject by gesturing to the capped syringe in his hand.

“So this will really make me sleep without dreaming?” I ask him.

“Yes, but it will only last for approximately six hours. Best I can do for now. There’s a chance you’ll wake up with something akin to a hellish hangover in the morning, though, so it’s best not to drink any more alcohol tonight to reduce the risk of projectile vomiting.” He nods pointedly at the wine glass in my hand. “In fact, you may want to wait a while before administering this, depending on how much you’ve already had.”

“Only two glasses.”

Yoongi ponders for a moment then says, “I think waiting for even just half an hour would still be best. In the meantime, do you want to talk about whatever has you so upset that you’re desperate for sleep but afraid of what you’ll see when you do?”

I gulp and shift my weight to my left leg as I lower my eyes to the floor. This time he is  _directly_  asking me to open up, and I’m not sure I can resist the offer.

“Do you… really have time to talk? Shouldn’t you be getting back home to Yari?”

“She bartends on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights until three A.M, so yeah, I have some time. Consider the conversation payment for this.” He shakes the syringe in his hand at that last word. Then he adds, “Besides, I know how it feels to not want to dream.”

I nod silently and move back to the couch in the living room. He follows and takes a seat on the other end. He declines the cigarette I offer him but grants permission for me to light it for myself.

“Have you fully quit?” I ask conversationally.

“Yeah. Ages ago. Last cigarette I had was on December thirty-first. Yari indulged me for New Year’s Eve, then I promised to make it my New Year’s resolution to quit cold turkey.”

I shiver dramatically at just the thought. “I could never do that.”

“It wasn’t easy at first, but it  _got_  easier because I’d do anything for her,” Yoongi states rather seriously.

I meet his dark eyes and study them for a while. He is not being romantic. He is simply speaking the cold, hard truth.

As if to continue the topic of people for whom we would do anything, I let out a deep, cloudy sigh and begin, “Jungkook and I broke up.  _He_  broke up with  _me_ , to be exact. Two weeks ago.”

“I was wondering if that might be why all the photos on your mantle have been knocked over,” Yoongi mentions softly.

My cheeks flush at his keen observation and I bob my head bashfully. “He’s moving all the rest of his things out tomorrow. Well, later today, technically.” Something dawns on me, and I exhale a humorless laugh. “It’s his birthday today, too. He gets to move his things out of his cheating ex-girlfriend’s house on his twenty-fourth birthday.”

I make a quick mental note not to forget to place the gift I bought him last month where it will be sure to be seen.

Yoongi picks up on one term in particular. “Cheating? That’s why he broke up with you?”

I stare down at the empty wine glass in my lap and glide a black fingernail along the rim of it. “Yes. I admitted to him that I was cheating on him nearly the entire time we were together. I just blurted it right out.”

“He didn't already suspect you were cheating?”

“No.”

“So why did you tell him?” His blunt question catches me off-guard for a second.

“Wha- Well, I don’t… I mean, I guess I-” I pause to reel in my thoughts, then decide, “I just didn’t want to hide it from him anymore. I couldn’t. He told me he wanted a family, and I couldn’t let him keep believing I was ‘wife-material’ when I’ve been a deceitful and unfaithful bitch behind his back.”

Yoongi hums. “He must have taken it pretty hard.”

I shrug and suck from my cigarette. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, he  _did_  leave me, right? But he didn’t scream at me or anything. He just asked me why I couldn’t give him my heart and love him back.”

“ _Do_  you love him?”

“Well, yeah. Of course I love him,” I answer without hesitation. “It… it really hurts me to have hurt him like this.”

“But the other person gives you more than what Jungkook did or could.”

I look up at Yoongi quizzically. “I beg your pardon?”

“The other person,” he repeats. “Whoever you’re having the affair with. They must give you something more than what Jungkook was giving you or what he  _could_  give you. Or maybe not something  _more_ , necessarily, but something different. Something you think you need.”

I breathe deeply and lean over to use the ashtray on the coffee table. “I was actually with the other man before I even met Jungkook.”

“Oh, there was a pre-existing relationship with the other person?” Yoongi sounds a bit surprised.

I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. “Yes. He knew about Jungkook and me, too.”

“So now it seems that  _Jungkook_  is the other person in this situation,” Yoongi points out. “Maybe it was  _Jungkook_  who was giving you something that the other relationship wasn’t giving you.”

 _A sense of normalcy,_  is my immediate thought. Out loud I mutter: “I suppose so.”

“So why continue the relationship with the first man, then?”

I puff my cheeks out then sigh again. “It’s more complicated than you’re making it sound, Yoongi.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I’m sure it  _is_  complicated - in  _your_  mind. But as an outsider, I’m wondering why you would go through the trouble of juggling two relationships and keeping one a secret if neither of them were providing you with everything you want.”

“I… I thought that both of them together might.” I don’t know if I really believe that, but it sounds like it could be true.

“Why not openly combine them, then? Polyamory is a thing. Not all healthy relationships have to be monogamous.”

The notion is entirely laughable to me, but I manage to withhold that laughter. “That would never work. It wouldn’t be ‘healthy’ at all. Trust me.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Alright then. You would know better than I would. From what you’ve told me, all I really know is that the first man knew about you and Jungkook and stayed with you anyway. But when you let Jungkook know about the other man, he left you.”

My heart quickens as I light up another cigarette. “So what does that mean?” I whisper.

“I don’t know, Miss. Just an observation.”

“You’ve gotten very observant, haven’t you?” I point out with a little smile.

He returns the smile. “You  _taught_  me to be more observant.”

At that, I have to giggle. “Fair enough.”

We fall silent for a few moments as I ponder what Yoongi has said. Has Jungkook’s departure proved that I was wrong to prioritize my love for him over Taehyung? He reacted exactly the way I expected him to, though.  _Anyone_  would be devastated to discover their significant other had been cheating on them for over a year. So what does that say about Taehyung? Is his loyalty and devotion foolish, or is it admirable?

Yoongi won’t be able to give me the answers to these questions, nor do I expect him to. They are for  _me_  to decipher and then live with.

I look up at him again to find him watching me patiently with a serene expression.

“What do you dream about?” I ask suddenly.

He cocks his head. “Miss?”

“What do you dream about that makes you not want to dream?”

His mouth tightens and he lowers his eyes. “Lately? Your fall. I dream about it a lot.”

His answer is entirely unexpected, though I suppose it shouldn’t be. It certainly was a traumatic experience for both of us. To be honest, I am surprised  _I_  don’t dream about it, though I do spend a lot of waking hours agonizing over my failure and the inevitable punishment that will come with it whenever Sanghyuk decides it is time to dole it out.

“Except when you hit the ground, it isn’t you,” Yoongi goes on. His voice softens to a nearly volumeless level when he finishes: “It’s Yari.”

I open and close my mouth a few times in an attempt to speak something comforting, but nothing comes out.

Finally, I settle for reaching over and taking his hand in mine, tapping the back of it lightly with my finger.

 

* * *

##  ****【** Jungkook’s POV **】****

_This must have been how my ex-girlfriend felt after I cheated on her: small and unwanted and insufficient._

It sucks.

The young woman sleeping soundly with her head on my chest was temporarily able to make me feel desirable again. She did everything I wanted her to, and I didn’t even have to ask her to do any of it. She laughed at my jokes, listened attentively to my stories, and was eager to please me in any little way possible.

It was a big mistake to sleep with her, though. It was probably an even  _bigger_  mistake to let her stay the night. It might set expectations I have no intention of meeting. Of course, none of this occured to my drunken mind at the time.

 _What have you done, Jeon? What are you doing?_  I scold myself sternly.  _Start straightening this shit out._ Now.

I tuck my chin down and whisper hoarsely, “Chaeyoung.”

She does not stir, even when I lift her hand off my bare stomach and place it back by her side.

I clear my throat and try again. “Chaeyoung,” I repeat louder, giving her shoulder a little shake. “Wake up.”

She moans and starts to blink. “Kookie?”

I grind my teeth at the nickname. It’s my own fault for letting her use it so freely last night, and the day before, and the day before that...

“Chaeyoung, you have to go now,” I tell her.

“Huh? What time is it?”

“I don’t know, but it’s morning, and I have things I need to do today.” My tone is a bit more clipped than I intended, but I do have things that need to be done today, and I do want her to leave as soon as possible.

To help her get the point quicker, I slide away from her and slip my boxers back on, then begin gathering her things. She looks stung when I dump her clothes in a pile on the mattress in front of her, and my guilt momentarily swells.

“But we had fun last night, didn’t we?” she asks, clearly confused by this turn of events. If she was expecting breakfast and cuddles, she was mistaken.

I close my eyes for a moment to collect myself, then force myself to look firmly at her. “This was a one-time thing, Chaeyoung. I want to be very clear about that. I took advantage of you, and I shouldn’t have. It was wrong, and I won’t do it again.”

“But I  _wanted_  to-”

I raise both my hands to cut her off. “I know, but I didn’t. I mean, I  _did_ , but I was just hurt and lonely. You’re a great girl, but-” I sigh in defeat and drop my hands down to slap against my outer thighs. “I just… I can’t give you anything more, and I can’t do this with you again. I’m sorry, Chae. Really, I am.”

She blinks hard for an extended moment, then thankfully nods her head in understanding. I avoid looking at her as she redresses. When she goes to move past me to go through the door, I open my mouth with a squeak to say something more to try and smooth over the awkward situation, but I don’t know what. She waits expectantly for a few seconds before sighing and continuing on her way.

_Nice going, Jeon. This is going to be one fine mess come Monday._

Only after hearing the front door close do I deem it safe to head to the bathroom and relieve the ache in my bladder. I intend to ignore my reflection in the mirror when I wash my hands at the sink, but a dark hickey on my neck immediately catches my attention.

 _Just fucking perfect,_  I groan to myself.

When I re-enter the hallway, Jimin spots me.

“Hey,  _there’s_  the birthday boy!” he calls out happily. “How come you didn’t walk Chae out? Although I’m surprised she still  _could_  walk, after all the sounds I heard last night.”

My face heats instantly. “Shut the fuck up,” I grunt as I join him in the kitchen.

“Ohhh, don’t be like that,” he coos at me with a shit-eating grin. “You  _needed_  to let loose and have a good time last night. Nice hickey, by the way.”

I groan out loud this time while taking a seat at the table and dropping my forehead onto it with a solid thud. “I shouldn’t have slept with her. Things are going to be so weird at work now.”

“Nah, everything will be fine,” Jimin chirps with a clap to my shoulder. He has been exceedingly giddy and optimistic ever since I moved back in with him. “Let’s just get through today first, starting with breakfast; I was just about to make some protein shakes. What time did Kinsoo say we could go by and get your stuff again?”

Just hearing her name spoken aloud stirs up turmoil inside me. More than anything, I’ve spent the past two weeks wanting Kinsoo to have told me what I was doing wrong and how I could have fixed it, rather than going behind my back the way she did. That’s what I should have done for the ex-girlfriend  _I_  cheated on. But if I’d done that, I may not have even met Kinsoo in the first place, and I wouldn’t have wanted that, even after knowing how things have turned out. She ended up meaning so much to me.

She still does.

“She said she’d be out until at least four-thirty this afternoon, so we have plenty of time,” I mumble into the table.

Part of me wishes Kinsoo was going to be there when I come over, but another part knows it would be too painful to see her. What would we even say to each other? Would she apologize to me? Would she try to get me back? Would I  _take_  her back? Would I be brave enough to voice everything I’ve been feeling to her face?

Jimin breaks into my thoughts. “We still might as well get it done early so you can enjoy the rest of your birthday. Hey, you want to cut the straps off all her bras while we’re there? Break the heels on all her shoes? Snag some of her jewelry to pawn? Light her couch on fire?”

“Christ, Jimin,  _no!_ ” I snap as I lift my head up. “I don’t want to do  _any_  of that, and you’re not allowed to either.  _God_. We’re just getting my shit and leaving, okay?”

“Fine, fine,” he sighs. He turns on the blender and lets it run for a bit before turning it back off and continuing, “I’m just sayin’ - if you need to channel some anger, I’d understand. Sucks that you have to do this on your birthday, man. Well, and in general, of course.”

He pours our drinks and slides one of the glasses in front of me with a rare gentle smile.

I take a sip without really tasting it and shrug. “‘S’okay. I’m not really  _angry_. I just want to know  _why_  she cheated on me. Like, what was I doing wrong, you know?”

“Hey, this isn’t your fault, man. Kinsoo must’ve had something missing in  _her_.”

“But if she’d just told me, I could have tried to fix it.”

“Maybe you could have, maybe you couldn’t. She didn’t give you that chance, so fuck her. You did the right thing by breaking up with her.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you’ve wanted since day one,” I scoff.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Not since day  _one_. Just since I realized she wasn’t nearly as into you as you were into her. You always gave her  _way_  more than she gave you, and you know it. You’d always drop everything for her. You gave her more time, more attention, more gifts.”

“You’re full of shit, Jimin,” I grumble and shake my head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Love isn’t measured by that stuff alone.”

 _She told me she would_ kill _for me, and it seemed like she really meant it..._

Though I suppose actions speak louder than words. Anyone can  _say_  anything.

“Kinsoo knew the two of you would break up,” Jimin shares all of a sudden. “And she knew  _you_  would be the one to break up with  _her_. She told me that the day you moved in with her.”

I almost choke mid-swallow. “What? She told you that?”

“Yeah, just as good as. She said- Oh, fuck, what was it again? She said:  _‘If and when this is over,_ he’ll _be throwing_ me _away.’_  Or something like that. That’s pretty close. Anyway, the point is, she specifically said  _when_  you two were over. Guess she knew you’d find out about the cheating, one way or another.”

My gut reaction is to ask Jimin why the hell he didn’t tell me about this sooner, but in hindsight, I don’t see the good it would have made. He didn’t explicitly know she was cheating on me, and he’d been telling me long before then to dump her anyway. I probably wouldn’t have even believed him at the time.

In fact, now I wish Jimin  _hadn’t_  told me about their supposed conversation. I would rather not know about it at all. It is just another thing to confuse and torment me about the whole situation.

I chug down the rest of my drink and do my best to carelessly brush away my thoughts. “Whatever. Let’s just go get my stuff.”

 

* * *

 

My senses are wholly unprepared to be overwhelmed by her the moment I step foot inside her home again - the home that was briefly both of ours.

From my first breath, the smell of her perfume and her cigarettes brings on a wave of nostalgia that all but retakes the air from my lungs. The instant I set sight on her familiar belongings, my eyes threaten to unleash burning tears. I can almost hear her laughter, feel her fingers, taste her skin.

Jimin seems to understand that I need a moment and lets me go upstairs by myself. I take them two at a time with an empty suitcase in hand and head straight to the master bedroom, but I hesitate to step inside once I reach the open door.

Everything is exactly the way I remember. The curtains, the furniture, even the sheets. I don’t know why I expected anything to be different after just two weeks. Maybe because everything  _non_ -physical has been altered.

When I finally bring myself to step through the doorway, the first place my feet take me is to the bed. I drag my fingers across the comforter from the foot of the bed up to the headboard. Did she sleep with anyone here last night, or was she alone? Is the person she’s been having the affair with comforting her, or does she even  _need_  comforting? Are they still together?

I frown and tongue my cheek as I think of the faceless other man. I can’t help but wonder how I measure up to him. Is he better looking than me? Taller? Richer? Funnier? A better lover? Is he in love with her? Is she in love with him? Is the other person even a man?

I groan in frustration at my pointless questions and fist my fingers in the linen, only to smooth it back out again with a sigh.

I gather the rest of the clothes I left behind - barely even batting an eye at the gun hidden in the sock drawer - as well as my electric razor from the bathroom, then go back downstairs to meet up with Jimin. He is standing in the living room when I find him.

He turns his head when he hears me coming and asks, “Hey, do you want the pictures of you and her or should we just leave them here? I’m surprised she hasn’t trashed them.” He gestures in front of him at the mantle over the fireplace.

I set down my packed suitcase and walk over with a clenched heart to pick up the frame on center display. I drag my thumb across the glass over Kinsoo’s smiling face, uncaring of the fingerprint smear I leave behind.

I remember the day we took this photo. I remember the conversations we had and the meal we ate for dinner and the movie we watched on the couch behind me and the sex we had in the bed upstairs and the way she held me after. It felt so wholly loving and genuine.

“She’s definitely gorgeous,” Jimin mentions quietly about the one thing he knows about her. “I’m sorry, dude.”

I just shake my head and set the photo back where it was. If Kinsoo hasn’t smashed or trashed it yet, she must like it, and I wouldn’t dream of taking it from her. I could be kidding myself, but it flatters me to imagine that she would look at it with any sort of fondness.

Jimin and I enter the den together next where the majority of my personal possessions are. Before we can begin boxing things up or transferring the furniture to his truck, I notice a folded card laying on top of an unfamiliar laptop on my computer desk.

I approach it with a mixed buzz of hope and apprehension. The sight of my name scrawled in Kinsoo’s sharp, all-caps handwriting on the front of the card sets my heart off-beat. Inside is a short message:

 _Pre-equipped with the latest expansion set of your favorite shooter game.  
_ _I know how much you like to kill bad guys, too.  
_ _Happy birthday, Jungkook.  
_ _\- Kinsoo_

A lump forms in my throat at the same time a smile tugs a corner of my mouth. I swallow hard and reread the note twice more, studying every word.

Is it my imagination, or is the  _I_  in her name dotted with a tiny heart? On the surface, Kinsoo is a little too stringent to picture her doing something that a nine-year-old girl might do. But when I think of all the times she would blush at my compliments, or giggle at her attempts to beat me in arm wrestling, or spontaneously steal food from my plate only to give me two bites from hers, it doesn’t seem  _entirely_  far-fetched.

_She still cares about me. I know it._

“Is that, like, your ‘consolation prize’ or something?” Jimin asks blandly from over my shoulder, but I barely hear him over my memories.

I pocket the note and we go about collecting my things in silence. By the time the last items have been loaded in our cars, I’ve made a decision.

“Hey, I’ll meet you back at the apartment later,” I tell Jimin quickly. “There’s something I have to do.”

 

* * *

##  ****【** Taehyung’s POV **】****

As I exit the elevator at Headquarters and round the corner, I almost collide with someone.

“Agent V,” RM greets me while taking a step back. He eyes his watch with an expression that could pass for slight surprise. “Have you already completed the assignment I gave you this morning?”

“It goes quicker when I don’t have to play with them,” I answer with a smirk.

“I imagine so,” he hums back.

My sister walks up and stops beside the two of us without looking at us. She always dresses nicely at work, but today she looks extra pretty in a navy blazer and white silk blouse tucked into pleated gray dress pants. Her hair is wavy and tied high in a ponytail. Her stretched eyelashes brush the tops of her pink cheeks when she blinks. Her lips are coated in a soft peach color. The pad of her thumb - topped with a typical oval-shaped black nail - alternates rapidly between tapping against and swiping over the screen of her phone where her attention is raptly fixed.

RM clasps his hands behind his back as he waits patiently for his superior’s attention. I cross my arms in front of my chest as I do the same.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kinsoo mutters when she feels our eyes on her. She hurriedly tucks her phone into the pocket of her pants and looks at RM with a small sigh. “Ready to go?”

“Where are you two off to?” I ask lightly.

“We have a lunch meeting with a potential client,” RM explains.

“I’ll meet you downstairs, Namjoon,” Kinsoo tells him.

He nods at her, then at me, then slides past me toward the elevator.

I meet Kinsoo’s eyes and find a hauntingly familiar expression there. It’s the same look she had on her face right before she told me she was going on a date with Hoseok. The same look she had right before she told me she was sleeping with him. The same look she had right before she told me she was pregnant. The same look she had right before she told me she wasn’t pregnant anymore. The same look she had right before she told me she started dating (and sleeping with) Jungkook.

She has something she wants to say to me, but she is not sure how.

What could it be this time? Is she engaged to  _Jungkook_  now? Are they adopting a child? Is she cheating on him with someone other than me? I have no idea what news she could have for me now, and it unnerves me.

A knot begins to form in my stomach, but I sound calm as I prompt, “What is it, Kiki?”

She shakes the expression off her face and replaces it with a small smile. “It can wait. We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

I relax a little. “Okay.”

After a brief pause, Kinsoo steps forward and into my frame. Her arms wrap around my torso and her cheek finds a snug place against my shoulder. I automatically hug her back with one arm circled around her shoulders. She squeezes me tighter and I hear her let out a pleased sigh. The sound inspires me to hold the side of her head in one of my hands to keep her pressed closely.

I don’t know where it is coming from, but this is the first intimate contact we have had with each other in months. I’ve done my very best to respect the relationship she said she wants us to have and remain within its boundaries because I know it won’t last. That isn’t to say that it hasn’t been difficult being platonic with her. In truth, it has felt unnatural not to kiss her, make love to her, or even just hold her like this - though I know the rest of the world would say I have that backwards.

But fuck the rest of the world; it disappears when I kiss, make love to, and hold my twin sister. I can’t wait for everything to be set right again.

Too soon she pulls away from me. She smiles again and whispers, “I love you, you know.”

I lift her chin with my fingers and press my thumb gently against her lips. “I know.”

She leaves me to follow after her assistant, and I head to his office to choose a new assignment for myself.

Ten minutes later, as I am scrolling through the database on RM’s computer, his desk phone rings.

“This is V,” I answer it.

“Agent V? Where’s RM? Or the Headmistress? I tried calling her office, and her cell is going to voicemail,” says the agent on the other line.

“They’re both in a meeting with a client. You know Kinsoo turns her phone off for those. Even  _I_  can’t disturb her right now. Can I help you with something, CL?”

“Jungkook is on his way there this second.”

I groan internally. It was only a matter of time before Kinsoo started inviting her boyfriend around the workplace for casual visits.

“Why? Is he bringing Kinsoo lunch or something? I figured she would have told him she’d be in a meeting at this time.” Unless it slipped her mind. She  _has_  been a bit forgetful since waking from her coma. Details don’t stick in her mind the way they used to, and she doesn’t always plan ahead as meticulously as before.

CL makes a noise as though about to say one thing, then clears her throat and says something else. “The Headmistress doesn’t exactly inform him of her daily schedule anymore, Agent V.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask with genuine curiosity. I stop reading the profile on a target to fully concentrate on the conversation.

“I just wanted to give a heads up about Jungkook,” she says instead of answering my question. “I’m sure the guard at the gate will defer to you about whether or not to let him in.”

“Okay…” I say slowly. “Thanks for the heads up, I guess?”

She hangs up and I place the phone back in its cradle, confused by the situation.

Before I can stand up from the chair, my cell phone rings.

“This is V.”

The guard down at the gate says, “Agent V, there’s a gentleman here asking to speak with Headmistress Kim. I tried telling him she isn’t here, but he’s adamant about coming inside and seeing for himself.”

It is uncharacteristic of Jungkook to be pushy towards a trained assassin guarding a specialized facility. Why wouldn’t he believe him? Does this have something to do with whatever Kinsoo wants to speak with me about later? In any case, my curiosity is peaked.

“It’s fine. Let him through,” I permit. “I’ll be right down.”

I approach the front door of the building just as Jungkook does from the other side. The guard on the outside and the one on the inside watch with flat expressions as I let him inside.

“Jeon Jungkook, what a pleasant surprise,” I greet him warmly.

When he steps past me, I notice a trashy - and recent - hickey on his neck. How many years has it been since Kinsoo left one on  _me_  in such an easily noticeable spot? He must have really gotten her riled up to have made her lose all sense of sensibility like that. No doubt that is one of the reasons she keeps him around.

“Hi Taehyung. Where’s Kinsoo?” Jungkook asks immediately.

“She’s not here,” I state simply. “What can I help you with?”

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to argue with me, but then eyes me with sudden intrigue. His gaze lingers particularly on the pendant around my neck. I can see the hint of a spark behind his eyes, but it doesn’t seem to fully ignite.

“Actually, maybe you  _can_  help me,” he decides, as though he had just spoken anything to the contrary. “Kinsoo talks to you, right? You’re close to her. Closer than anyone. Right?”

Despite the change in mine and Kinsoo’s relationship dynamic as of late, I suppose Jungkook is still correct.

I shrug with practiced nonchalance. “Sure.”

Jungkook glances at the guard behind me, then leans closer to me and mutters, “Can we talk somewhere? Just for a few minutes? Please.”

I take in his pleading expression and feel no choice but to agree, so I lead him up to Kinsoo’s office.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” muses Jungkook as he takes a seat on the opposite side of the desk from me. “This place wasn’t what I expected. I mean, I guess it’s still not.”

I chuckle and ask, “What did you expect? Racks of heavy artillery? Shelves of poisonous green liquids? People dressed in masks and skin-tight black body suits?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles while blushing.

I smirk and pull a pack of cigarettes from my pocket to light one. I politely offer him one in turn, and he surprises me by accepting.

“Is my sister finally teaching you her bad habits?” I joke as I flick my lighter to ignite the end of the cigarette between his lips. Between this and his hickey, it seems he and Kinsoo are getting downright wild.

He inhales and does his best to suppress a coughing fit. “N-no,” he chokes without further explanation.

I cross my legs and sit back. “So what’s the special occasion then?”

Jungkook taps ash into the tray and hunches forward with his elbows on his knees with a heavy sigh.

“I’m just so conflicted right now. I’m going back and forth between thinking that I don’t know her at all and thinking that I do,” he starts rather melodramatically. “Kinsoo  _does_  care about me. I know she does. I mean, she told me what she does for a living, you know? I thought that made me special to her. I thought after knowing  _that_  secret, I could handle anything. I thought  _that_  secret would be the worst one.” He shakes his head and takes a smoother drag.

Jungkook’s thoughts and words are coming out nonsensically to me, but I do know that if he has learned more of Kinsoo’s secrets, it’s because  _she_  was the one to tell him. After keeping him in the dark for so long, she has finally enlightened him about something, which is more than she ever did for Hoseok. Jungkook is clearly a lot more special to her than he realizes, despite what he may think right now.

And there is only one secret he would consider worse than the fact that Kinsoo has people murdered for money, but there is no way he knows all the details. If he did, he would have attempted to wring my neck the moment he saw me.

_Oh, Kiki. What have you done?_

“What happened?” I ask simply.

Jungkook pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I broke up with her because she told me she was cheating on me the whole time we were together.” Then he looks me directly in the eye and asks, “And you knew about it, didn’t you?” His tone isn’t accusatory; he simply sounds as though he already knows the answer.

_Of course I did._

“It’s like you said: I’m closer to her than anyone,” I answer vaguely.

“Do you know who it is?”

_Of course I do._

I pretend to think for a moment, then say, “Someone she loves very much.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw when he grinds his teeth. He gulps and grits, “She loved me, too, at one point. She  _had_  to have. I think she might  _still_.”

I sigh a stream of smoke and stub out my cigarette. Jungkook follows suit as though worried that it would not be appropriate to keep smoking without me.

“She did love you,” I admit. “And I’m sure she still does, too. But let me make something clear to you, Jungkook, because Kinsoo probably didn’t: She loves the other man more.”

A deep frown lines the younger man’s face, and I can tell he believes me, even though he would rather not.

“It’s not your fault,” I go on to assure him. “Did Kiki ever tell you she was once engaged?”

Once again, Jungkook surprises me by nodding his head. “She mentioned it right before she told me she was cheating. I thought maybe her ex-fiancé was the one she was cheating on me with.”

I shake my head. “No. He’s dead.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen in mild horror. “Kinsoo didn’t mention  _that_. She just said he left her because he couldn’t handle the miscarriage.”

 _Christ, Kinsoo, what_ didn’t  _you tell the poor guy?_

“He would have left her eventually anyway, just like you did,” I say matter-of-factly. “She was cheating on him, too, with the same man as now.”

“Really? She’s been with the other man for that long?”

_Her whole life, in fact. Save for those first five minutes._

“Why would she even start dating  _me_ , then?” Jungkook continues, mostly to himself.

I hum in thought.  _Why indeed?_

“I imagine she probably enjoyed having the love of two men at once,” I guess. “She’s always had a bit of a skewed outlook on love and affection, maybe because we never received much when we were kids.”

Jungkook nods again. “She told me your father was abusive. I’m sorry about that, man. That’s really awful. No kid deserves that.”

Even sitting here, heartbroken and confused, he apologizes to  _me_  for  _my_  struggles. I suppose that’s what happens when one is raised to be a proper gentleman by loving parents. For a fleeting moment, I am actually jealous of him.

I mentally shake myself and shrug indifferently. “It was just life.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to say more, but the sounds of muffled gunfire from downstairs interrupt him. We both jerk our heads towards the doorway in alarm.

“Was that…?” he starts to ask but doesn’t finish the thought.

I don’t answer him. I just count the shots in my head. They reach five and then stop. I pull open a drawer on Kinsoo’s desk to retrieve the handgun I believe to be inside, but it is inexplicably missing.

“Jungkook,” I say softly but firmly. He turns back around in his chair to look at me. “Take the staircase -  _not_ the elevator - and get out of here.”

While he hesitates over my instructions, the elevator dings from down the hall as an ominous signal that it is too late.

Soon, someone I haven’t seen in years appears in the doorway: Han Sanghyuk.

If CL was not among the people in the building I presume he murdered just now, she must have been eliminated out in the field, otherwise he never would have gotten this close to her charge.

I close my eyes for a brief second to mourn the loss of my respected comrade, as well as the others downstairs. When I reopen them, Sanghyuk is grinning like a bad omen.

“Hello, Taehyung. Hello, Jungkook,” he drawls almost pleasantly. “I’m so glad both of you are here together. You’ve made this a hell of a lot easier for me.”

Jungkook starts to say something to him, but I cut him off with a sharp snap of my fingers. He reacts just like the puppy I have always thought of him as by snapping his mouth shut and regarding me with curious expectation.

“Sir,” I address the other man, opting for a cool-and-collected method. “What can I do for you?”

“You and Mr. Jeon there can both come with me.”

I narrow my eyes. I assumed he was here to make good on the threats he made to Kinsoo about Jungkook, but what does he want with  _me_?

“We’re not going anywhere,” I declare evenly. “We can talk right here.”

Sanghyuk sighs and raises his hands, palms open and facing upwards in a harmless gesture. “Come on, Taehyung. Let’s not do this the hard way, huh?”

I sigh as well and get to my feet unhurriedly. I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk around the desk, casually placing myself between Sanghyuk and Jungkook.

“Leave the kid out of this,” I say, making an attempt to appeal to some shred of decency in Sanghyuk by teasing Jungkook’s young age. “You don’t need him. He and Kinsoo aren’t even together anymore.”

“That may be, but she still cares about the guy enough to have had agents watching over him at all times for her. The people downstairs were reluctant to let me near him, too. It was a damn shame to have to take them out. That type of loyalty and obedience from a person is admirable. It seems  _everyone_  knows how much this ‘kid’ means to Kinsoo. The two of you are the most important people in the world to her, so either way, she is going to be devastated.”

Jungkook tries to speak again, but I still won’t let him as I continue talking.

“Whatever it is you’re planning, you won’t get away with it,” I threaten my ‘superior.’ “Kinsoo would hunt you to the ends of the earth for harming her ex-boyfriend. What do you think she’d do if you harmed  _me_?”

“I suppose I’ll find out, won’t I?”

Sanghyuk moves his hand behind his back in the same instant that I leap aside and bark a command for Jungkook to duck. He is smart enough to obey without hesitation this time, and Sanghyuk’s shot misses both of us. By the look of his pistol, I judge that to be the last round in the chamber - unless he reloaded on the way up here. I don’t intend to find out until I have the weapon in my own hand.

Moving swiftly, I dart behind Sanghyuk and knock his feet out from under him with a forceful, sweeping kick through both his slender calves before he can pivot around to face me. He lands hard on a hip and I quickly deliver two more kicks to his body - one against his jaw to further disorient him, then one against the fist holding his gun to shake it loose.

I pin him down to the floor with my foot against his windpipe and point the gun directly at the center of his forehead. The weight of it suggests he  _was_  thoughtful enough to reload it.

“You were right. This was  _very_  easy, sir,” I taunt. Kinsoo will be beyond pleased to know I have taken out another dangerous bastard for her.

Except the bastard is smirking at me with far too much confidence for his current position, giving me a brief moment of self-doubt over my control of the situation.

A swift shift of his blue eyes to something behind me gives away the source of his supposed happiness, but I am not able to whirl around in time before a needle is plunged sharply into the side of my neck.

My muscles go limp and my eyesight gradually begins to blur as I fall to one knee and then the other. I can still make out the identity of my attacker, however, as he steps into view. His pale face, glasses, and black hair are quite familiar.

“ _Why…?_ ” I try to ask him, but my voice doesn’t make it past my lips before I tumble over and black out.

 

* * *

 

The first thing I notice when I come back into consciousness is a tight ache in both of my shoulders. I try to roll and loosen them only to discover my hands are bound together against something behind me. It feels cold and hard, like a metal pole. In contrast, my body feels warm and sticky.

I blink my eyes open and wait for my vision to swim back into focus to take in my surroundings. Past the sweaty bangs hanging in my face, I see my legs splayed out in front of me against the cracked concrete ground. There are long windows lining a far wall to my right. The fading orange sunlight streaming in illuminates all the dust particles suspended in the humid air. The space is vast and devoid of furniture or any other items except for the tall beams holding up the ceiling. I do not recognize this place; I can’t tell if it is a parking garage or some sort of abandoned warehouse or what.

I twist my wrists and determine that my bindings are made of rope, not metal. When I try to get to my feet and assess my situation from a higher vantage, a soft voice calls out to me.

“You may as well just sit and stay comfortable while you wait.”

I whip my head up to find Agent Suga rounding a corner from my left.

“ _You,_ ” I snarl. “What the fuck have you done? Where’s Jungkook?”

He comes and squats down in front of me, just out of kicking-range, then answers my second question, “He’s nearby, but not near enough to hear us talk. We can speak freely.”

“How long have you been working for that slimeball Sanghyuk?” I demand. I strain furiously against the ropes, but it only serves to cut them deeper into my skin. The other man takes notice.

“It’s pointless to resist. Those knots are impeccably tied.”

“Kinsoo is going to tie a fucking  _noose_  around your neck for this. If she’s feeling merciful, that is,” I spit in response.

Agent Suga tilts his head slightly and looks at me almost sadly. “Yes, I suspect she’ll want to. It hurts me to be hurting her like this.”

“So why are you doing this?” I wonder, though I am still not entirely sure what all  _“this”_  is yet.

“Because I have someone  _I_  love who needs protecting, too.”

It takes me a second to understand his meaning. “Sanghyuk threatened your fiancée?”

“Of course he did. He’s using me to punish the Headmistress for the failed mission.”

“And you’re just going to go along with it? You’re a fucking coward.” I hack up a wad of mucus and launch it onto his cheek.

Agent Suga closes his eyes, sighs, removes his glasses, and casually wipes my sentiment away with a sleeve. When he puts his glasses back into place and looks at me again, he says, “Look. I respect Kinsoo very much, and I  _do_  hate to do this to her, but she’s tough. She’ll pull through this. Yari, on the other hand, is innocent, and she doesn’t deserve to be caught up in this. I have to do everything and anything I can to protect her, no matter how despicable some of those things may be.”

I grind my teeth. “I get where you’re coming from, I really do, but that doesn’t mean I won’t still maim you when I get my hands on your scrawny ass. And it  _is_  a matter of  _when_  - not  _if_. Kinsoo and I will both pay you back for this. You can count on it, Agent Suga.”

His lips twitch in a faint smile. “You may be right about that, Agent V. After all, I have no doubt that Kinsoo is going to save you. You  _are_  the love of her life, aren’t you?”

With that, he stabs the needle of another syringe into me.

 

* * *

 

 

Copyright © 2018 - 2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


	8. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heartbreaking decision leads to reconciliation and the promise of vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings & Features: profanity; smoking; brief allusion to threats of physical harm/murder; mentions of blood and death; mentions of guns; sci-fi elements; betrayal; mentions of infidelity; implied murder; MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH; slight religious and anti-religious elements; funeral and burial scenes; EXPLICIT INCEST; graphic sexual content (incestuous sex, fingering, cunnilingus, rimming, penetrative sex); appearance by Hyuk of VIXX
> 
> **AS OF MARCH 15, 2019: LEE SEUNGHYUN ('SEUNGRI' OF BIGBANG) HAS BEEN REPLACED BY HAN SANGHYUK ('HYUK' OF VIXX)

##  **【Yoongi’s POV】**

********「** ** _The Night Before, Between 2 and 3 AM_ **********」** ** ** ** ** ** **

_It should not be this easy to act completely normal._

But I have no other choice. Not when Yari is concerned. I have to behave myself if I don’t want her to limp down the aisle at our wedding in a few months - or if I want her to attend at all.

So here I am, sitting with Headmistress Kim in her living room because she called me. She told me at least half a dozen times over the phone that she could go to Headquarters herself to retrieve what she was asking me for if I just told her what to look for, but I insisted on personally hand-delivering it. After all, I was being handed one of those prime opportunities Mr. Han told me to watch out for: Headmistress Kim, distressed in the middle of the night and looking for help.  _Vulnerable_. Before I left Headquarters, I sent a message to Mr. Han to let him know I was hoping to glean information for him to use to his advantage in exacting his revenge on Kinsoo.

 _Hoping to, but hoping_ not _to at the same time_.

It hurts me to be hurting Kinsoo this way; she doesn’t deserve this. But it’s better her than Yari. Surely if the tables were turned, Kinsoo would not hesitate for a second to betray me if it meant protecting Jungkook… or her other lover.

I look over at my boss and try to squeeze her fingers to somehow convey my apologies for whatever is to come, but she is already letting go of my hand. She asks to have what I brought for her - what I  _made_  for her - and it eases my mind a little to be able to help soothe her emotional pain with a peaceful night’s rest, just as I have soothed her physical pain these past several months.

I help her administer the sleep aid and avoid meeting her eyes when she thanks me. When I return to my car and check my phone, there is a text message from the restricted number that belongs to Mr. Han; a response to the message I had sent earlier.

 **[Fri. Sept. 1. 02:13] Restricted:**   _Tell me when you're finished._

I type out a short reply before I even drive home. Just three seconds after sending it, a call comes through. I answer it.

“What have you learned?” Sanghyuk asks me promptly.

“Kinsoo and Jungkook have broken up.”

My caller grunts. “I already knew that, Min. Don’t tell me this was a waste of our time.”

_I hate the way he says “our.”_

“She’s been cheating on him,” I elaborate.

This time he hums with interest. “Oh? With whom, I wonder?”

I take a deep breath and gaze up at Kinsoo’s house when I notice the lights beginning to switch off one by one.

“I’m not positive, sir, but there’s only one person she cares about more than Jungkook.”

There is a long pause of silence on the other end, and I trust that he understands my meaning. The silence stretches on for so long that I look at my phone screen to make sure the call hasn’t dropped, but it shows that we are still connected. I place it back up to my ear in time to hear Sanghyuk say, “I think it’s time to put that poison you’ve been making for me to use. We’re acting today. Be ready,” before hanging up.

 

* * *

****「 _Now_ ** **」****** **

_It hurts more than I thought it would to have someone you respect want to kill you._

The man on the ground in front of me sincerely wants to kill me. I saw the fury raging plainly in his green eyes just a second ago before it hardened to stone at my bold comment.

Agent V studies my face for a long moment, then eventually says quietly, “You know about Kinsoo and me.” It is a statement, not a question.

I nod.

“For how long?” His tone is even. Unbothered. Perhaps a tad curious, but only a tad. He might as well be asking if the forecast calls for rain today.

Truthfully, I did not know for absolute certain until this very moment, though the suspicions started back on the night of the Headmistress’ accident. The night I saved her life.

Agent V had been a man possessed, storming into the medical ward at Headquarters with no intention whatsoever of being kicked out. One look in his steely green eyes and I got the impression I could have shot him in the leg and it would not have been a hindrance to him. He even requested to personally assist Dr. Kim with the surgery on Kinsoo’s spine. Dr. Kim’s response had been to make sure Agent V was scrubbed in properly.

While the operation was underway, I made a comment to RM about Agent V’s stalwart devotion to his sister. The veteran agent gave me a strange look. A look that made me wonder if I should already know something obvious. A look that told me  _he_  most certainly knew something I did not.

 _“Of course he’s devoted to her, just as she is to him,”_  RM had said matter-of-factly.

 _“Where’s her boyfriend, though? She named_ him _her emergency contact this evening,”_  I pointed out at the time.

RM shook his head at me.  _“I’m making him wait. Taehyung needs to be by her side.”_

Something about what RM had said just then - maybe it was the use of Agent V’s real name, or the tone of his voice, so soft yet certain - made me think he was not just referring to this night alone. It had given me pause and made me wonder.

I thought all the way back to the very first day I met the twins and the hasty, unfair assumptions I had made. They were poised and beautiful, with an air about them that was not quite haughty, but still demanded respect. Looking at their clothes and accessories, I supposed they were rebelling against a polished upbringing by entering a seedy business, but were still spoiled enough to not  _entirely_  let go of a privileged lifestyle; they had made their profession so profitable, after all. Then I learned from other agents that Kinsoo and Taehyung hardly had two dimes to rub together when they were children, and they had to build their fortune all themselves using their blood, sweat, determination, beauty, cunning, and charm.

There was a moment that first morning when Agent V kissed the back of Headmistress Kim’s hand, casually and quick. It was a gesture that could have been construed as a subordinate being sweet and playful with his superior, but there was more intimacy to it than that. More intimacy than I would think is typically shared between siblings, at least. The smiles on their faces alluded to it. I had shaken that judgment from my mind at the time, but it came back to me in a new light with RM’s words.

The Headmistress’ own words last night about cheating on her boyfriend had also gotten me to wondering, especially when she mentioned she had been with the other man since before she had even met Jungkook. It still felt like a stretch to presume her own  _brother_  was the other man, sure. But at the same time, it felt like the only logical answer, given Kinsoo’s secretive nature and the countless other smiles I have seen her share with Taehyung since the first on that cold December day.

“Does it disgust you?” Agent V goes on to ask while I am silently ruminating. I look at him, and he raises his jaw defiantly at me. “Does it make you lose respect for your employer, knowing she’s in love with her twin brother? It’s true, Agent Suga. I won’t deny it. I’m not ashamed of it. Kinsoo loves me, and she loves how I feel inside of her; she’s told me more than a thousand times, and not always with words. I don’t expect you to understand, but my sister and I belong together.”

I stand back up. “Love never disgusts me,” I answer his initial question softly, then add, “Your sister will probably be here soon,” before turning and walking away from him.

In another part of the building, Headmistress Kim’s ex-boyfriend is in much the same situation as her brother: bound and sitting on the ground. His neck and hairline are glistening with sweat, and there is an angry red cut with a streak of dried blood on his cheek from where he resisted his capture. I know I myself probably already have a bruise on my ribs from where he decked me before I could subdue him, and Sanghyuk will be sporting a split lip for a few days.

Jungkook turns his head towards me as I approach him. He does not say anything when I squat down on my haunches in front of him; I am the one to break the silence.

“I’m sorry I have to do this to you,” I tell him. When I pull yet another needle-tipped syringe from my pocket and lean over to poke it into his neck, he does not flinch. It is a shame that both his flight and fight instincts appear to have been subdued by something between acceptance and apathy.

“Kinsoo trusted you,” he finally speaks as I withdraw the needle. “You helped her so much that  _I_  trusted you, too. We were so thankful for you and all you did. So I’m sorry, too. I'm sorry for whatever is  _making_  you do this.”

The lack of bitterness in his words is so odd that I don’t even realize its absence for a few seconds. I look him in his big, brown eyes, and he stares back at me evenly.

I can understand what the Headmistress was saying when she claimed to be attracted to Jungkook in more ways than one. Besides being boyishly handsome, he is scrappy and kind and sincere. A good person, right down to his soul.

_Look where it has gotten him._

I tuck my head down in a nod and get to my feet. “I hope she can save you, and I hope you can forgive me if she does,” I whisper as I go.

I will be surprised if either happens.

 

* * *

##  ******【**** Kinsoo’s POV ** **】******

I stare vacantly out the passenger’s side window as Namjoon drives us back to Headquarters. My head is swirling with thoughts. Thoughts of the client we just met with. Thoughts of the target we’ve just acquired. Thoughts of which agent should be assigned to eliminate said target…

...which lead to thoughts of my brother…

...which lead to thoughts of my ex-boyfriend.

I miss him.

I love him.

Both of them.

To the point where I would kill for each of them. And I have - for one of them, at least.

I sigh quietly, and my assistant takes notice.

“Something wrong, Miss?” Namjoon asks from beside me.

I shake my head, but I don’t even check to see if he is looking at me to see. After a while, I say to the window, “How many people in your life would you kill for, Namjoon? Not counting yourself, I mean.”

His reply to my random question comes within a second. “Two.”

I look over at him now, surprised that his answer is the same as my own. “Who?”

He keeps his eyes fixed on the road. “You. And Agent V.”

My surprise heightens, and my mind automatically reaches for a non-sentimental explanation for his answer. “That’s because you work for us,” I dismiss, turning back to the window.

“I work for  _you_ , not Agent V,” Namjoon clarifies. “But I would still kill for you even if you didn’t pay me.”

“How come?”

“I care about you and your well-being.”

“And my brother’s, too?”

“Of course.”

“That’s very kind of you, Namjoon,” I thank him, unsure of how else to respond.

“It’s just honesty, Miss.”

I can sense the shrug in his tone, and I smile as I turn to him again. “Well, I appreciate that. I appreciate  _everything_  you’ve done for me over the years. How many has it been now? Almost a decade, right?”

He nods. “It’ll be an even decade at the start of next year.”

“We’re getting old,” I sigh.

“Old _er_ , not old,” he corrects me, and I chuckle lightly in acceptance.

As we approach the gate at Headquarters, Namjoon abruptly stomps on the brakes, and my seatbelt pulls taut to save me from flying forward.

Rather than complaining over the lack of warning for the unexpected action, I dart my eyes around at the scenery through the windshield to find the source of Namjoon’s sudden panic.

“What is it?” I murmur with only a slight part of my lips. No sooner do I ask than I discover the problem myself. There, in the booth by the gate, the guard is clearly dead. His body is slumped halfway out the window, face down, and a pool of his blood has collected on the pavement below. The gate is wide open. “Oh my god…”

Beside me, Namjoon puts the car in  _park_  and moves to unbuckle his seatbelt, but I bar my arm across his chest.

“Whoever did this could still be here, watching us,” I explain. I crane my neck to sweep my eyes across the windows and the roof of the building as well as the surrounding landscape in search of the culprit or culprits. My assistant does the same.

“It  _looks_  clear, but we can’t be sure.” I pull my arm away from his body. “We need to get inside. Drive through the gate - slowly - and try to keep low.”

We slide down in our seats and Namjoon shifts gears to roll the car forward. I wait for the attacker (or attackers) to open fire on the vehicle’s windows or tires and give away their position, but all remains quiet. We pass the booth and the gate without pausing to inspect our fallen comrade, and Namjoon does not stop the car until we reach the front door of the building.

I nod at him and we exit the car together. As soon as I get out, I am met with another dead agent on the ground. The sharp eyes I had entrusted to watch over my ex-boyfriend are sightless as they gaze skyward; between them is the gunshot that killed her.

_But if CL is here, then…_

With my heart racing and my sensibility fleeing in a surge of terror, I rush inside the building. From somewhere behind me, I hear Namjoon calling out to caution me, but his voice is muffled under the pounding in my ears.

“Jungkook? Jungkook!” I shout. I practically sprint down the hallways, flinging open doors and looking from room to room crazily, barely even registering the dead bodies of my other agents. “Jungkook, where are you?”

A thick voice finally answers me, but it is not from whom I had been calling.

“Headmistress, over here,” groans Seokjin from somewhere behind me; somewhere near the medical ward.

I dash towards the sound and find him leaning heavily on his shoulder against a wall while one of his hands clutches a bloody patch on his hip through his scrub shirt.

“Headmistress,” he repeats when he sees me. His eyes are pained but focused.

I go to him and immediately drop to my knees at his injured side. I try to pry his fingers away to examine the extent of the damage, but he stubbornly shakes me off.

“It -  _nngh_ \- hurts like hell, but the bullet went clean through without hitting anything vital. I should be okay,” he grunts, turning so his back is pressed flat against the wall now.

I contemplate ordering him to shut up and let me help him, but I trust his self-analysis. I get back to my feet and latch onto his shoulders. “Who did this? Did you see their faces?”

“It was S-Sanghyuk.”

My nostrils flare as my suspicions are confirmed.

“I don’t know why he spared me, or if he even meant to,” Seokjin goes on.

“Others weren’t so lucky,” I grunt. “CL is dead. I saw her body outside. Where is Jungkook?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “I don’t know, I didn’t see him. I didn’t even know CL was here. But everyone who was inside is dead.”

My heart drops to my stomach at another terrifying thought I hadn’t even considered yet. Something ingrained in me feels it may be the  _most_  terrifying thought.

I tighten my trembling grip on Seokjin and whisper: “Agent V… Taehyung… he was here today, Jin. Did you see him? Is my brother dead?”

His lips tighten sadly. “I don’t know if he is or not, Miss. I’ve looked everywhere, but he’s not here now. Neither is Agent Suga. I tried calling both of them, but they’re not answering their phones.”

As though triggered by the word itself, my cell phone rings in my pocket. I let go of Seokjin and scramble to answer it.

“Have you found my handiwork yet?” the smug voice on the other end of the line greets me.

My eye twitches and my lip curls in disgust. “What the fuck have you done, Sanghyuk? Is this supposed to be my punishment?”

“Oh, no no no no  _no_.” He has the gall to laugh at me. “Actually, I never intended to harm your agents. Your good doctor only needed to be slowed down, but the others… they all got in my way. They tried to keep me from getting to whom I  _really_  wanted.”

_There it is._

“You have Jungkook,” I state rather than ask.

“I have  _both_  of the men you love most in this big, wide, ugly world, hon.”

My throat dries up and my knees wobble. Seokjin notices my shakiness and reaches to help steady me, but someone else beats him to it.

Namjoon.

He steps up behind me to hold me up against his tall frame with his hands on my shoulders, but I step away and let him know I’m fine with a dismissive wave.

“Where are they, you son of a bitch? What have you done to them?” I demand of Sanghyuk.

“I’ll tell you exactly where they are,” he answers my first question pleasantly, then rattles off the address. I repeat it back to him to help myself remember. “And you’d better go alone, unless you want  _more_  of your people to needlessly die for you. When you get there, your chemist will tell you the situation. He’ll help you, but you should hurry.”

The call drops and leaves a wake of questions reeling in my mind.  _Yoongi is there, too?_

Namjoon eases me around to face him, but I don’t give him the chance to ask the question on his lips.

“I have to go,” I say shortly.

“I’m going with you,” he replies at once with no regard for where I am going or what is happening.

“No, I have to go alone. Stay here and help patch Jin up. I’ll probably need him when I get back. And I can’t risk losing  _you_ , too.” I pull his hands off my shoulders and squeeze them to soften my curt attitude.

Namjoon frowns in disagreement but nods stiffly. He knows much better than to argue. “Alright. Just be careful, Miss.”

 

* * *

 

The address Sanghyuk gave me over the phone leads me to a curious place. It seems to be some sort of abandoned military facility used for testing heavy artillery or explosives, judging by the deep gashes in the surrounding barren field. The holes in the dead grass range from twenty to nearly a hundred feet in circumference, by my estimations. The gate of the barbed wire fence is rusted and hanging off its hinges. I drive through it on the gravel path to a vast three-story building with long windows, some of which are merely open holes with no glass.

I park my car and check the clip in my gun for the third time since leaving Headquarters to ensure it is full. I switch the safety off and approach what I assume to be the front door of the bland gray building; it is as good a place as any to start.

It ends up being the correct decision when my dark-haired chemist opens the double doors and steps outside to meet me.

“Yoongi,” I call out in relief and lower my weapon.

He, however, does not grant me the same courtesy. Rather, he keeps the barrel of the gun in his hands pointed straight at my forehead as he approaches me slowly. It looks familiar, like it belongs in my desk back at Headquarters. Before I can ask him about it, he speaks to me.

“Drop the gun, Miss,” he commands me in his quiet, solemn way.

My eyebrows fold inward. “What?”

“Please,” he tacks on without changing his stance or halting his careful steps.

I stand stock still in hesitation long enough for him to reach me and simply take the gun from my frozen hand on his own. He activates the safety and tucks the short barrel into the waistband of his black jeans smoothly.

“Turn around,” he tells me next. “Keep your hands where I can see them, please.”

A mixture of confusion and utter trust compels me to obey without a spoken question. I turn and raise my empty hands up to shoulder height, and Yoongi commences frisking me as though I were a criminal. He thoroughly pats me down with his free hand from my chest to my waist to my thighs to my feet. He finds the knife against my ankle under my dress pants but does not take it from me.

“Okay, you can turn back around,” he grants when he is finished with his search. “Sorry about that, Miss. Can’t let you have a long-ranged weapon. I’ll bring your guns back to Headquarters for you, but right now there are bigger concerns than me disarming you.”

I’m not sure what he is talking about, but I’m sure he is right. My primary concern being: “Where are Jungkook and Taehyung?”

“They’re inside.”

“We have to get them out of there.  _Now_.” The state of the field around the building has given me frightening ideas of this entire area becoming a mushroom cloud any second now.

I move to stride past him, but Yoongi steps directly in front of me to deliberately block my path. I furrow my eyebrows again and try to look at his face, but he will not meet my eyes. I try again to get by, but he shifts into my path again.

“Yoongi, honestly, what the fuck? Come  _on_. Jungkook and Taehyung need me.”

“You can only take one of them,” he says to my feet.

“Excuse me?”

He digs in one of his pockets for a second, then holds up the contents between his fingers for me to see: two small glass vials. There is red liquid in one and clear liquid in the other. It can’t be more than five milliliters each; about a teaspoonful.

“The red one is the antidote. The clear one is a swift death,” Yoongi explains to me. “Well, a swift _er_  death. Give it to them orally.”

“The  _‘antidote’_? What are you talking about?”

He takes a deep breath. “Taehyung and Jungkook are both going to die in a couple of hours if they don’t drink this.” He separates the red vial into his other hand and raises it higher for emphasis. “But there is only enough for one of them. That’s the point. Sanghyuk wants you to choose.  _That’s_  your punishment. Though he says you should consider yourself lucky that he’s letting you keep one at all. The couple who died in Kang’s attack wasn’t lucky enough to keep  _their_  lives.”

“ _Keep one_?” I repeat in a stunned breath.  _Keep one_ , as though they are toys rather than people.

_Is that how I’ve been treating them?_

“Tell me this is a sick joke,” I demand.

Yoongi shuffles his feet and says nothing.

I shove his shoulder but he does not budge. “Huh?”

Nothing.

I shove him harder, and this time he stumbles back a step. “This isn’t fucking funny, Agent,” I snip. “You tell me right now that you’re not serious.”

“I’m afraid I  _am_  serious, Miss.”

I shake my head and set my hands on my hips. “No.  _No_. This isn’t happening,” I grumble as I turn away from Yoongi and begin to pace aimlessly.

“It  _is_  happening. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can save one of them.”

I stop and look back at Yoongi. “I have to save  _both_  of them.”

“You have to choose, Miss,” he reiterates.

“I  _can’t_  choose between them!” I insist. “I haven’t been able to for over a  _year_!”

I bite my lip and silently hope Yoongi does not realize the full meaning of what I just said. Or perhaps I  _should_  explain it to him. What if I told him there is hardly anything I have done with Jungkook that I haven’t also done with Taehyung? What would it feel like to tell another living soul my deepest secret?

Yoongi finally looks me in the eye. A sad, solitary tear falls down one of his cheeks. He knows.

“I’m so sorry, Miss.”

My lip quivers. “Then  _help me_ , Yoongi,” I plead, taking a step towards him and grabbing his wrist desperately. “Help  _them_. We have to get them both back to Headquarters and get a… another antidote. D-do you know how to make it?”

He shakes his head. “We can’t. I can’t.”

“Then we need to get them to a hospital!” I urge.

“No.”

My throat tightens. “Why not?” I croak.

“Sanghyuk told you to come alone, didn’t he? There are snipers stationed around here, Miss. They have orders to kill anyone else on sight. They also have orders to kill Jungkook and Agent V both if you try to leave with both of them, or if either of them are seen leaving without you. As soon as Sanghyuk’s people see you leave with one of them, they are going to enter the building and take the other one - or the, um, body, at least.”

The last statement hits home in my gut, and my legs cave.  _This isn’t happening..._

Yoongi is on his own knees in front of me within a second of my collapse, just as he was with my fall. I am vaguely aware of my body tilting forward until my forehead bumps against his shoulder. I hardly feel his bony arms hug themselves around my shoulders.

“There’s not much time, Miss; only a couple hours,” Yoongi reminds me. “You have to trust me. Please.” He pries me away from him and takes one of my hands to press both vials into it, then carefully folds my fingers over them. He sandwiches my clenched hand between both of his tightly and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Just make the choice you can live with, then live with it.”

With that, he gives my fist a small but firm shake, then stands and walks away without another word. I don’t turn to watch him go. I remain bowed on the ground under the weight of the impossible choice I’ve been told to make.

Eventually, my brain reminds me of the urgency of the situation. I pocket the vials, stumble to my feet, and bolt inside the building, but soon realize I have no idea where to go.

The concrete floor is caked with dust and littered with footprints, but I can’t make sense of their direction. The air in here is surprisingly stuffy for how drafty the place should be with the damaged windows. The only light to be had is the natural one from outside, but the sun is getting closer and closer to dipping below the horizon.

“Taehyung!” My helpless shout rings throughout the open space. “Jungkook!”

Mercifully, I am answered, and my heart soars at his voice.

“Kinsoo?”

“Tae?”

“Kiki! I’m over here!”

“Tae!” I choke, rushing as fast as my feet will carry me to my twin.

I find him bound to a support pole and sitting on the ground in the middle of a large, open area. I waste no time in circling around him to better examine his condition. His wrists are tied together with rope, and I can see that the skin underneath is chafed. I squat down and pull the knife from my pant leg. It takes me a number of long seconds of sawing back and forth against the thick knot for it to break with a snap.

Taehyung groans in relief at being released and brings his hands forward to flex his wrists, arms, and shoulders. I step in front of him, still crouched on my haunches, and begin fussing my hands over every inch of him I can get to - his face, his arms, his chest, his legs. Other than the cuts on his wrists, he appears uninjured.

“Big sis, come to save me,” he quips with a smile. When I look into his eyes, I doubt I have ever seen a more beautiful sight.

I let out a sound that is something caught between a sob and a laugh and fling my arms around his neck. He hugs me back and leans the side of his head against mine. He murmurs my name into my hair, fitting a lifetime of love into the two syllables.

I lean back and push his dark hair back from his sweaty face, then glide my thumbs along his cheekbones. “Oh, Taehyungie… Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, for now, no thanks to our brilliant chemist,” he grits out bitterly.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s partly responsible for all this. Capturing me, injecting me with some shit that I assume is going to hurt me at some point. And not just me - he said Jungkook is here, too. The bastard is working with Sanghyuk now.”

Taehyung’s accusation renders me speechless for a moment. I turn my conversation with Yoongi just moments earlier over in my mind. Yoongi’s actions had been extremely peculiar, but it did not even occur to me that he was giving me the antidote to his  _own_  poison; I had assumed it was all Sanghyuk. This does explain how Yoongi knew so much about the situation, and how he had the antidote so readily available. He’d been “helpful,” just as Sanghyuk had said. I didn’t even think to question Yoongi about his involvement. A naive, foolish,  _egregious_  oversight on my part.

_There’s not much time… You have to trust me…_

The risk is too great for me not to, but this is the last time I ever do.

“Listen to me, Tae,” I say seriously. I cup my hands around his neck and lift his chin with my thumbs. The rapt attention of his direct eye contact coaxes me into forcing out the next painful words. “If what Yoongi told me is true, you and Jungkook are both going to die unless I save one of you.”

“Just one?”

A muscle twitches in my jaw. “Yes.”

Taehyung nods in understanding. I knew he’d be able to handle the news calmly. My strong, fearless baby brother.

“Have you seen Jungkook yet?” he asks me.

I inhale a shaky breath. “No.”

“I don’t know where he is, but you’d better find him. He needs you. He was already looking for you today. He came by Headquarters.”

“What did he say?” I wonder aloud, curiosity getting the better of me.

“He said he broke up with you because you told him you were cheating on him. Why would you do that, Kiki? You love him.”

I hiccup and still a shaking hand against Taehyung’s cheek. “I know, but he started talking about a family and… and  _marriage_ , and… I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t do it again. It felt like I was doing the right thing by telling him the truth, but it hurts so much. I fucked up, Tae. I miss him.”

Taehyung purses his lips and nods again. “Go to him. I’ll be here. Unless this is goodbye, in which case you’d better tell me right now, Kinsoo.”

“No,  _no_! Of course it’s not!” I contend vehemently, latching onto the collar of his shirt as though he could disappear into thin air just by speaking about goodbyes. “How can you even say that? No matter what, I’m coming back to you after I see Jungkook. I  _promise_ , Tae. Just stay right here. Don’t go outside, okay? I mean it. Stay right here.”

He smiles gently, then takes one of my hands in his and brings it up to kiss my knuckles. “Okay.”

The first dozen or so steps away from my twin are heavy and reluctant, but my feet soon lighten and speed up with the need to see my ex.

“Jungkook!” I call out. “Where are you, baby?” The pet name slips naturally off my tongue, and my cheeks burn when I remember I’ve lost all my privileges to call him that.

I have to climb up a rickety metal staircase and walk past several dusty rooms before receiving an answer to my calling.

“Kinsoo? Is that you?” Jungkook’s voice calls back timidly. “Where are you?”

My feet pound against the floor nearly as fast as my heart pounds against my breastplate. “Jungkook! I’m right-” I skid to a halt at the last open doorway at the end of the hall, and there he sits inside. “-here.” He lifts his head, and the sight of his sweet doe eyes temporarily paralyzes me as effectively as headlights on a deer.

It has only been a couple weeks since I have seen him, but the beauty of him surprises me. Maybe because he has no fathomable reason to be this beautiful while tied up and sweaty with dirt on his skin, a bruise on his neck, and a cut on his cheek.

When I remember how to walk, my mind has no room for concerns about whether or not I still have privileges to cross over to him and drop down to cradle his head against me. By the way he relaxes his posture and nuzzles into my chest, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Are you really here?” he whispers into my blouse.

“Of course I am, baby. I'm right here with you. You’re okay now.”

Jungkook pulls back to stare at my face in disbelief ( _because why_ would _he trust me anymore?_ ). I cup his cheeks and give him a shaky smile, then remove my blazer and use one of the sleeves to wipe away the blood on his face as best I can. One of his arms twitches, and I realize his wrists are tied behind him just as Taehyung’s were. I drop my blazer to hurry and cut him loose.

As soon as he is free, he pulls me into a proper hug. He cradles my skull and my spine, and I dig my fingers into the muscles of his back as I squeeze him in return. He feels warm and smells heart-achingly familiar. A larger, more sincere smile forms on my face of its own accord at the comfortable feeling of being in his arms again.

_How could I have ever sabotaged this?_

“I’ve missed you so much,” I confess against his neck. “I’m so,  _so_  sorry, Jungkook.” The words are terribly insufficient at conveying the depth with which I truly feel them, but I am at a loss for anything more substantial.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he tells me softly.

I lean away from his embrace, but he doesn’t let me go far. “Really? After what I did, I thought you’d  _hate_  me.”

“I don’t hate you for-” Jungkook cuts his sentence short and his hand stops mid-way to my face as something else catches his attention. “Oh, damn it, I got blood and dirt all over your nice white shirt.”

“W-what?” I look down at my front and see the stains and smudges he is talking about. “I- it’s fine, baby. I don’t care.”

A giggle bursts from me at his unnecessary yet typical selfless concern amidst everything else that is happening, and Jungkook laughs, too, as he strokes my cheek tenderly with his knuckles.

“I  _have_  missed you,” he repeats. “Your laugh. Your smile.”

“I haven’t been doing much of either lately without you,” I admit somberly, “and it’s all my fault.”

Jungkook sighs and withdraws his hand from my face to rub at the back of his neck, and the nature of the bruise on the front dawns on me. I had nearly forgotten about CL spotting him with Chaeyoung last night. I want to give Jungkook advice on not getting involved with a co-worker like this, but there are too many reasons why I can’t.

“You’re right, it  _is_  all your fault.” His voice is not loud, but I flinch at his words all the same. “I loved you so much, Kinsoo. Was that not enough for you?”

“It was more than I could have ever hoped for,” I insist. I only wish I could prove to him just how true that is.

 _Perhaps I_ can _, with the vial in my pocket..._

Jungkook gulps. “It wasn’t enough to make you happy, though. I mean, I  _thought_  I was making you happy, but I guess you had someone else who was doing it better.”

My face heats and I turn it away from him. I cannot bring myself to choke out a response over the lump in my throat, so I simply sit and wait for him to go on with whatever else he has to say. Eventually, he does.

“Listen, Kinsoo,” Jungkook sighs. He shifts to sit cross-legged, and I mirror his position so that our knees are touching. “Of course I’m upset with you for what you did. You really hurt me. You broke my fucking heart. I feel hurt and used and…  _so_   _stupid_. But I don’t hate you for cheating on me. I can’t. I cheated, too.”

His admission shocks me into looking back at him. “You did?”

He quickly backtracks. “I mean, not on  _you_. It was years ago with another girlfriend. I was-” He looks down at his lap and tongues his cheek in thought. “I wasn’t happy with the relationship, but instead of talking to her about it, or just breaking up with her, I did something stupid and got caught. I… I really regretted it for a long time. But now part of me thinks that if it hadn’t happened, or if I’d stayed with her, then I wouldn’t have met you.”

A humorless laugh squeaks out of me. “Yeah, just look where  _that_  got you: beaten and captured.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Shit like that comes along with dating an assassin, right? I’m sure something like this could happen again, especially if we were to get back together.”

My breath catches in my tight throat. “Do you w- _want_  us to get back together? W-would you really take me back?”

Jungkook laces our fingers together and presses them against his clean cheek. “It seems crazy after all this, but yeah, I do. I would.”

“How can you ever trust me again, though?” I have to ask.

He smiles wanly. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? It’ll have to be built again. It’ll be hard. But I still love you, Kinsoo, and I believe you’re worth all the pain and effort. I have so many questions though, about the other man and if you’ll stop seeing him and why you started dating me in the first place.”

My heart races faster with each word he says.

“We’ll have time for all that later,” Jungkook continues, and I don’t have the heart to tell him that we may not. “Right now I want -  _need_  - to ask you about one thing, and I need you to answer me honestly because it’s important for building that trust again.”

I swallow hard. “What is it?”

"Would you still kill for me? Was that ever true to begin with?”

The answer to  _that_  is easy. It hasn’t changed since I first told him those words months ago. I would still kill twenty men and women (and scores more) if it ensured his safety.

“Of  _course_  it’s true,” I declare. The dam that has been holding back my tears cracks just enough to let one leak from each eye. “Of  _course_  I would. I meant everything I ever told you, Jungkook. Every word. I swear it.”

He nods, but that isn’t good enough for me.

“Tell me you believe me.  _Say it_ ,” I implore.

Jungkook’s syrupy eyes vibrate back and forth as they search deep into mine; it feels as though he is seeking out my bare heart. A part of me desperately wants to show him, but there are so many old walls, and I’m not even sure what they are made of anymore. Shame? Fear? A misguided sense of protecting myself? Of protecting  _him_? He would exhaust himself trying to break them all down and end up resenting me. Or if he  _did_  somehow manage to break through, he would only find the space already occupied by someone else; the one who has always been there because the walls do not even exist for him.

“I believe you, sweetheart.” A small drop of blood appears in one of Jungkook’s nostrils, but he doesn’t notice.

“Good.” I pull one of the vials from my pocket and glance at the color inside, then return my gaze to his. “The biggest promise I made you was that I would keep you safe, and I will. I love you so much, Jungkook. Trust me, baby, I do.”

 

* * *

_“Tragic news from the inner city this morning as a young man has been found dead in an alleyway near Golden Closet Dance Studio downtown. The body was discovered shortly after dawn this morning by a local business owner on her way to work. Early investigations suggest this could be a ‘mugging gone too far’ judging from the wounds found on the body as well as the lack of personal possessions. Local officials have not yet released the identity of the victim amidst the ongoing investigation, but they hope to deliver justice swiftly for the victim and his loved ones.”_

 

* * *

##  ******【**** Taehyung’s POV ** **】******

I slowly inhale and exhale the last breath of my cigarette and flick the butt onto the street, then get out of my car and step into the warm, end-of-summer September air. I straighten my tie and my suit jacket as I walk up to the front door and knock. It does not take long for it to open. Kinsoo’s hair is wet, and she is only half-dressed in a black bra and black pencil skirt.

I pull my sunglasses off my face and clip them onto the front of my shirt. “Is this how you meet  _everyone_  at the door?” I half tease, half scold. I push my way inside and shut the door behind me.

“I knew it was you,” she answers me shortly. She turns and heads back to the stairs to climb them, and I follow after her without an invitation.

“We’re going to miss the wake if we don’t leave soon,” I point out when we reach her bedroom.

“I can’t decide on what to wear,” she complains. She sheds her skirt and carelessly tosses it onto the unmade sheets on her bed, giving me an eyeful of the black panties barely covering her ass.

I have seen her in various states of undress in countless instances both casual and sexual, but it has been months since the last time for either. In fact, the last time I saw her naked, she had just been shot and thrown out of a window. Now that she is not comatose, I take my fill of running my eyes over her familiar shape and skin.

She runs her fingers through her dark hair with an agitated grunt and walks around to disappear into the closet.

I close my eyes to regain my senses. “You’re really worried about your  _clothes_  right now? It doesn’t matter, Kiki.”

“It’s keeping me from thinking about where we’re going.”

“You shouldn’t anesthetize yourself.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Tae.”

“It’s been over a week, Kinsoo.”

She reappears with a new outfit in hand and looks me in the eye. “Exactly. It’s been over a week, and I still haven’t properly cried over what happened. He went cold in my  _arms_ , Taehyung, and I can’t cry over it. Why can’t I cry? What the fuck is  _wrong_  with me?”

 _I haven’t cried, either._ While she was evidently holding his dead body, I was waiting right where she had told me to. My nose had gone bloody and my body had started shivering uncontrollably, and I had a terrifying moment when I started to believe she was not coming back for me as she promised. I started to believe I was really going to die without telling her goodbye. It was a time to cry if there ever was one, but I didn’t. Because there was still a voice that told me she  _was_  coming back. She  _had_  to. Even if it was only to say goodbye.

And she did come back, but not to say goodbye.

So here we both are.

I want to cross the room and take her in my arms and tell her she is safe because she is with me. I want to drag her back in the past to a time before she ever met Jeon Jungkook. I want to leap into the future to a time when all of this is just the scar of a wound that no longer hurts.

I stand rooted to my spot by the doorway. “I don’t know, sis. I can’t answer that. Grief works in mysterious ways.”

She sighs and removes the black dress from the hanger to slip it on. “Zip me up, will you?”

 

* * *

 

Kinsoo agrees with my suggestion that I should drive. She sits silently in the passenger seat with her face half-hidden behind the floppy brim of her black sun hat. The only movement she makes is to lift a cigarette to her lips, then discard the ash out the window into the breeze.

I do not try to engage her in conversation. What could I possibly say?  _I’m sorry I couldn’t protect your boyfriend for you?_  I want to, but she would tell me it’s not my fault; she wouldn’t blame me in the least. She blames  _herself_. In a way, I blame her, too. Once again, she should have known better than to get so involved with someone else. She knew the risks and how heavy the consequences could be. I didn’t  _want_  him to die, but I am not surprised.

The best thing I can do right now is be here for her, just as I always have been.

We arrive at the church earlier than I expected but still later than everyone else, it seems. There are some people gathered outside. I recognize Jimin and Chaeyoung standing together amongst them. Chaeyoung spots me first, then Kinsoo, and whispers something to Jimin. He looks over and I nod at him as I catch his eyes, but he returns no sign of recognition. He looks at Kinsoo next, who pays him no mind as she keeps her focus straight ahead. I follow her lead and ignore Jimin’s stare as I open one of the double doors to let my twin inside ahead of me.

The air inside the church is hot and thick and suffocating enough to give a sense of claustrophobia despite the high ceiling and wide space. The sight of the “holy” symbols displayed and draped and decorated on the walls and windows and furniture makes my fingers itch just to  _hold_  a cigarette.

I am a few months away from hitting my thirty-year-milestone, yet this is the first time I have ever actually set foot in a place of worship. My parents weren’t exactly  _non_ -believers, but they also didn’t care enough to actively participate in a religious community. And there was no service like this for my mother after she died. My grandmother had made the decision to have her daughter cremated. When my grandmother died, Kinsoo and I made the decision to have  _her_  cremated, too. Not only was it a cheaper option, but we had no other family or friends who would attend an elaborate sort of ceremony such as this, anyway.

I don’t know if they are in Heaven or Hell, if they have been reincarnated into other living beings, or if they are merely the specks of ash that were scattered to the wind long ago. They are whatever they are, and I don’t waste my time wondering about it. When  _I_  die, I’ll be whatever I’ll be, and I won’t waste my time worrying about it.

As Kinsoo and I step inside the church, we notice a large photograph of Jungkook propped on an easel in the foyer. He is not looking directly at the camera but somewhere up and off to the side instead. He looks a few years younger and he is smiling brightly in the sunshine of that day with windswept hair and no worries of this day.

Kinsoo stares at it for a minute. Then two. Then three. Until I put my hand on her shoulder and she nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Kiki...”

She shakes her head and pats my hand. “Fine. I’m fine.”

We step forward. There are many more people gathered in here than outside. Some are chatting, some are crying, others are totally silent. Some are seated in the sleek wooden pews, others are congregated at the end of the aisle near the altar where a mounted casket lies open. Jungkook’s parents are amongst the latter group, as well as a man who can only be Jungkook’s older brother.

I turn to my sister and start to ask, “Do you want to-” but she is already stalking down the aisle and away from me. I watch her go for several seconds, then trail behind at a slower pace.

Kinsoo reaches the end of the aisle and draws Jungkook’s mother into a tight hug without warning. The older woman appears slightly astonished at first, then almost flattered. She gently returns the gesture. I come to stand behind Kinsoo as she lets go of Mrs. Jeon and moves to shake hands with Jungkook’s father and brother.

“Oh, Taehyung,” says Mrs. Jeon when she sees me. “You came, too. That’s very kind of you.”

I purse my lips in a grim half-smile as she absentmindedly squeezes my hand with polite appreciation.

“May I… I mean, is it appropriate to… to touch him?” I hear Kinsoo ask slowly and quietly.

“Yes, of course,” Jungkook’s father murmurs kindly.

I step back out of the way as Kinsoo pulls her hat off and moves up to the casket. I take her hat to hold onto it for her without prompting, then turn my attention to Jungkook’s body as well.

The morticians did an excellent job at preserving him, but he does not look as though he is simply sleeping, which I’m sure was the goal. He looks dead. The makeup was done well, but his features are still a bit waxy. His lips are tight; maybe because they have been sewn shut. He has been dressed in a nice, simple black suit, and his hands are folded primly over his halted diaphragm. Still handsome, but still dead.

Kinsoo reaches out and delicately traces each of Jungkook’s rigid fingers with one of her own, careful not to scratch his skin with her nail. Then she lies her palm flat against the place where his hands meet.

I look at her face. She looks doleful, but there are no signs of tears welling in her eyes. I reach up and cup the back of her neck through her hair in a gentle squeeze.

 

* * *

 

When the service is over, Jungkook’s father, Jungkook’s brother, Jimin, and three other men I do not know bear the casket out of the church and into the hearse waiting outside. The rest of us congregants follow after them solemnly. The sky has become heavily clouded, completely blanketing the sun, but the air feels hotter than before.

A long procession of cars marked with orange flags rolls its way to the gravesite just a few miles away. Pedestrians and other motorists nod their condolences to us as the sky grows darker.

When we arrive, Kinsoo holds onto my shoulder to steady her heeled footsteps as we walk through the grass to her boyfriend’s grave. His casket is all set on the lowering device to be put into the earth where he will lie forever after a few more final parting words. Words of our “faith” being tested in this time of mourning, but how everything is all part of a larger “plan” - even tragedies such as this.

As we stand listening, people do their best not to seem rude and put off by the heat, but I can sense their discomfort. I can see it in every shift of their weight and attempts to fan themselves with failed subtlety. I can smell it in their sweat. Only Jungkook’s immediate family, Kinsoo, and I stand still as statues.

That is, until the casket begins to descend into the ground, and Kinsoo shatters to pieces. Her sudden outburst of tears draws the attention of others, and I wrap an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. She turns towards my touch at once and buries her face in my chest. My heartbeat quickens.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay,” I soothe quietly, rubbing her back one-handedly. “Shh, it’s alright, Kiki.”

She cries harder and clings tighter to me. I squeeze both arms around her and kindly dismiss the sympathetic looks being shot our way with a little turn of my lips and shake of my head. A minute passes with no sign of her slowing down.

“Come on, I’m taking you back to my place,” I murmur to Kinsoo at the same time a thunderclap sounds overhead.

Without waiting for an answer, I take one of her hands and lead her away from the grave. We make it to the car before we hear someone calling to us.

“Hey, Kinsoo, wait!” Jimin calls as he jogs over.

“Jimin. Hi.” Kinsoo sniffles and dabs at her eyes with the pads of her fingers.

“Hi,” he pants back as he stops in front of us and looks my sister in the eye. “Look, I’m sorry, Kinsoo.”

Kinsoo nods. “I’m sorry, too. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, losing your best friend like this.” Her voice cracks on the last word.

“No, it’s not just- I mean, yeah, it’s obviously hard and really fucking terrible. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without him. But that’s not what I meant. I meant I want to apologize to you.”

“For what?”

The sky opens up and unleashes a sudden downpour, but Jimin doesn’t move. He seems determined to finish whatever he has to say, so Kinsoo waits patiently to hear it, and I remain beside her.

“Well, I guess first I should say I still hate you for cheating on Kook,” Jimin says. “That was a really shitty thing to do and he didn’t deserve that.”

I reach my hand out to push him back a step before he can cross a line, but Kinsoo shoves it away and gestures for Jimin to continue.

“I never trusted you,” Jimin goes on, “But I still could have been nicer to you. And if those tears aren’t fake, it seems like maybe you really did love Jungkook. In your own way, I guess. So I’m sorry.”

Kinsoo sniffs again and smiles faintly, then reaches out to grasp his shoulder. “Thank you, Jimin. I appreciate that. Take care of yourself, okay?”

Jimin purses his lips and nods. “Yeah, you too.”

 

* * *

 

Kinsoo’s sobs do not restart on the ride to my condo, but the rain pours harder. We dash inside as swiftly as we can, though we’re still plenty drenched from the gravesite. When I try to turn on the lights in my living room, they do not respond.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself.

“What’s wrong?” Kinsoo asks, shaking the water from her hat.

“Oh, the storm must’ve cut the power. It’s fine. Here, let me go get you a towel and some dry clothes so you can get out of those wet ones. I know you still have some here.”

Her wet fingers close around my wrist and tug me around to face her. Before I even see her, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in. I grunt in surprise as her mouth bumps into mine hard enough to bruise. She works her lips against mine at a feverish pace right off the bat. It does not take long for her to pry my lips apart with her tongue and connect it with mine. My body’s response is automatic; I can already feel an erection rising in my pants, hot and hard and fast.

“Mm, Kinsoo, wait,” I say, taking her hands and putting them back by her sides as I take a step back. “Are we really doing this right now? We were just at your boyfriend’s  _funeral_ , for Christ’s sake.”

Lightning streaks across the sky outside, and the subsequent thunderclap is almost instant.

My twin looks me in the eye, green mirrored on green. “I know. I killed him.”

I swallow hard with the taste of her on my tongue. “You killed an innocent man. An innocent man who loved you - borderline  _worshiped_  you - and would have given you that perfectly normal life you say you want. Why would you do that?”

“To save  _you_.”

“You could have saved  _him_.”

A tear cuts through the raindrops still stuck to her cheek. “He  _is_  safe now. No one can hurt him.”

“He’s  _dead_ , Kinsoo.”

Kinsoo reaches out to hold my face in her hands. “And you’re alive. Because I love you most. Because I couldn’t let you die. Because I can’t live without you. Because I-”

Her sentence ends in a short, surprised squeak because I’ve heard enough. I hoist her up and carry her down the hall to my bedroom where I set her back down on her feet and reconnect our lips with a hungry groan. I wind my fingers in the dripping strands of hair on the back of her head. Our mouths clash into and retreat from each other in a looping symphony of lustful wet sucks.

Kinsoo increases the urgency by yanking the tucked end of my shirt from my pants and flying her fingers down the buttons as she undoes them. I shrug the sodden garment off and pull my undershirt over my head to sling it aside as well.

Next she undoes my belt buckle but does not bother removing the leather strap from the loops; she is in too much of a hurry to pop open the button on my pants and tug down the zipper. Her hand dives inside and immediately grasps the growing shaft of my cock. I shiver at the touch of her cold fingers on my burning skin.

“Oh my god, I almost forgot how thick you are,” she breathes. “Fuck, I need you inside me. Please. It’s been too fucking long.”

“I know, I know, I’m dying to be in you,” I answer in earnest, jutting my hips forward into her hand. “Please let me, Kiki. Let me touch you. Let me see you again.”

“Get me out of this.”

Kinsoo spins around and I waste no time unzipping her dress. The soaked fabric clings to her body, but I manage to peel it off of her. She unhooks her bra herself, and I push the straps from her shoulders to let it fall to the floor. I mould myself against her back and circle my hands around to fill them with the small mounds on her chest. Her nipples are already stiff. I roll the hardened peaks in my fingers as I knead the soft flesh surrounding them, and she moans softly at my ministrations. Her body begins to weaken against me, so I steer her towards the bed.

She lies on her back and I cage her between my arms by placing my palms on either side of her head. My eyes flick over the wound in her shoulder. I trace the outline of it sympathetically. The thought that Kinsoo could be dead right now if that bullet had pierced a little harder, a little over, and a little lower chokes me up more than my own recent near-death experience.

She takes my fingers away and presses a light kiss to each individual tip while looking me in the eye knowingly. I smile at her and lean down to suck her bottom lip between my teeth to get back in the mood. She keens and arches her back when I bite down on the tender flesh.

I lower myself to my elbows to cover her body with mine as I drag my lips to her neck. I nibble at it with habitual gentleness because I could never mark her and be caught by her boyfriend, but I soon realize I do not have to worry about that anymore.

_She is all mine again._

A nearly animalistic growl rumbles in me at that thought, and I suck at her skin until the blood beneath blossoms into a bruise. I create another one, and another one, and another one, all across her neck and chest.

“ _Taehyung_ ,” she moans. The sound shoots a pulse straight to my dick. “Get my panties off.  _Please_.”

I shimmy them down her legs. Once they are discarded, I push her thighs apart and kneel down at the foot of the bed to get a better look at her exposed pussy. I spread her lower lips with my thumb and forefinger to reveal her pink crevasse with the sensitive nub at the top. I run my middle finger up her slit and am a little disappointed to find it not very slippery.

“How am I supposed to get inside you if you’re not wet?” I tsk. “Nevermind, I’ll be glad to fix that.”

I bend forward and plant a kiss on her mound, then deeply inhale the warm, musky smell of her sex. The familiar scent gives me a mild high. I lick a wide, wet stripe up the length of it and groan at the first taste.

“I’ve missed your cunt so much, Kiki. It tastes as good as ever. Did Jungkook ever tell you that? He must have, with as long as you were with him.”

“I can’t talk or even  _think_  about him while your face is between my legs,” she whines.

“I want to know,” I press in a dark tone between lazy licks. “Did he appreciate your sweet pussy? Was he good at eating you out? Or was he one of those guys who only gave head because they felt obligated?”

Her hips twist. “He was good at everything. Ungh, s- _so_  good.”

“Who’s better? Hm?” I boldly nip her clit with my teeth, and she moans at the pleasure of the pain.

“You are. More, Tae, please...”

I smirk into her folds. “Of course you would say that, now that I’m between your legs again.”

But even though she is in the heat of the moment and her pussy is getting stickier by the second against my lips, I know my sister is not lying.

Not to speak ill of the dead, but there is no way her ex-boyfriend was better at pleasing her than I am. I have no doubt he made her come plenty of times, that she moaned or even screamed his name as she came on his tongue or his fingers or his dick or whatever toy he was using, but Jungkook just did not have the level of knowledge of her body that I do. Or the amount of experience. Sadly, he never will.

“But I’ll prove to you that that’s the truth,” I continue. “I’ll remind you just how easy it is for me to get you to come so fucking hard.”

“Stop talking and just  _do it_ , Taehyung, Jesus.”

I chuckle and sweep my tongue slowly through each crevice of her salty sweet genitalia, including her swollen clit. I make two more rounds before puckering my lips and blowing a light breath of air against the sensitive skin. Kinsoo shudders and nearly knocks her thighs against my head.

“You’re teasing,” she criticizes. There is barely any volume to her voice.

“There’s a difference between teasing and building anticipation,” I debate.

“I don’t think there is.”

I lightly swat her pussy lips with three of my fingers. “Come on, let me enjoy myself for a minute. You know I’m going to take good care of you, kitten.”

The pet name rings a sweet note, just as I expect, and Kinsoo hums and nods in acceptance.

I push her legs all the way apart again to re-situate myself, then dive back into her core with determination. I shallowly delve my tongue into her hole, and the walls of her pussy instantly clamp down in an attempt to pull the muscle in deeper. I oblige the automatic reflex of her body by shoving my tongue in as far as it can reach, burying my nose into her clit in the process. In no time, the lower half of my face becomes coated in a mixture of my spit and her heady arousal. My dick strains against my pants for attention, but I ignore it.

I withdraw my tongue as I wrap my lips around her clit but ease one of my forefingers into her clenching pussy so as not to leave her empty. The quiet but high-pitched breath Kinsoo lets out signals when I’ve found her g-spot. I tap against it in time with the up-and-down swipes of my tongue on her clit.

The sighs, moans, and profanities rumbling without filter from Kinsoo’s mouth encourage me to slide a second finger in beside the first and speed up the pace. She fists the sheets and writhes against me in search of every bit of friction to be had. Her cunt closes in tighter on my fingers.

“Close already?” I muse.

I take the forceful lurch of her hips as an affirmative, but she adds a vocalized, “You know I am,” as well.

I smirk. “Yeah, I  _do_  know. God, you’re so fucking hot, Kiki. Remind me what you look like when you come.”

She whispers a curse attached to my name, and my cock throbs harder. I pump my fingers faster and suckle steadily on her clit. When Kinsoo’s body tenses, I know I have the proper rhythm built; she is too afraid to move and accidentally alter it. And when she convulses and rocks the top half of her body halfway up from the mattress, I know she is coming. Her mouth falls open in wider increments the higher her pleasure climbs, and she squeezes her eyes shut.

Her delicious pussy grips me in tight pulses as I work her to the top of her high and over. Her legs twitch as oversensitivity sets in, and her fingers tug loosely at my hair.

“Ungh, Tae…”

I obey the plead in her tone for me to stop and pull my lips and fingers away from her soaked cunt. I pop the same fingers into my mouth one at a time to suck away the residue left on them before crawling up the bed.

“That was a good one, wasn’t it?” I ask huskily, planting a kiss on her lips.

Kinsoo smiles as she kisses me back. “Yeah. Fuck.  _Really_  good. My pussy is still twitching.”

I grin back and give her another peck. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. That was only the first one, though.”

With that, I slide back to where I was and perch her legs comfortably on my shoulders. Her pussy glistens invitingly for round two, but I catch sight of something else just as enticing. I dip my tongue down to her other hole and begin licking back and forth over the tight ring of muscle. Some of the juices from her pussy have seeped across it, cutting the bitter taste.

“Holy fuck, Tae,” pants Kinsoo. Her body goes stiff with surprise but she still lifts her hips higher to give me better access.

I snicker and move my palms to help hold up her butt cheeks. I close my lips around the small hole between them to suck at it with the same fervor as I did with her clitoris. Kinsoo moans and grinds against me, urging me to keep going. I circle her puckered asshole with the wet tip of my tongue half a dozen times before forcing it a few centimeters up her anus. She gasps happily at the gentle penetration.

“Almost forgot how good it feels when you eat my ass,” she breathes.

“Feels good when you eat mine, too,” I tell her.

“You want me to right now? I will.”

I groan at the offer and give her asshole a final kiss. “Maybe later.” I get to my feet and strip off the remainder of my clothing, then grab the base of my rigid dick and give it a few pumps as I tower over her sprawled form. “Right now I  _have_  to get inside you. How do you want it?”

Kinsoo sits up and tells me to lie on the bed next to her. No sooner do I do so than she hikes a leg over my hips to straddle them, pressing the heat of her pussy firmly against my cock.

She bends forward and kisses the center of my chest with an open mouth, leaving a small smear of wetness behind. Then she leans towards one of my nipples and coaxes it into a pebble with a gentle suck. She repeats the process on the other one and adds a pinch of her fingers to it.

“Now who’s teasing?” I hum.

I feel her mouth curve into a coy smirk on my skin just before she sits up straight. She reaches down to take my dick and position the tip of it at her entrance. We lock eyes and moan in harmony as she sinks onto me slowly. So slowly, like she is savoring the sensation of every inch as much as I am. Her walls clench when her groin connects with mine and I bottom out inside of her.

She is soft and flexible but still wonderfully tight around me. Wet and slippery but more than capable of providing friction. And oh,  _so_  warm. She pulses around me as I throb against her. It’s as though our heartbeats are synced.

We’re reconnected.

“How’s that feel?” my twin wants to know.

“Perfect,” I answer, rising up to a sitting position myself and encircling her nakedness in my arms. “You’re perfect.”

She smiles almost shyly and knocks her forehead into mine. I start to turn my face away in an effort to spare her from my tainted breath when she leans in to kiss me, but she is quick to capture my chin and cheeks in one of her hands to hold me in place. Her gaze does not waver from my eyes as her lips tilt against mine, nor does mine from hers.

Between each kiss she takes, she rolls her hips languidly in my lap. I start to pick up on her rhythm, only for her to switch it up. Her waist moves back and forth in addition to the circular swivels. By the time the first bounce comes - a half rise followed by a rough drop - my breath is coming and going in shallow puffs.

“You drive me so fucking crazy, Kiki,” I whisper. I hug her tighter to bring her down with me as my back hits the mattress again. I use the shift as an opportunity to thrust up into her hard. She gasps and clutches me by the shoulders to keep herself from tipping forward onto her face.

“Goddamnit, you drive me crazy, too,” she says, righting her position and straightening her back again. “Your fingers drive me crazy... your mouth drives me crazy… this fucking  _cock_  drives me crazy...”

“Yeah?” I give her another hard thrust. “You’ve missed me, haven’t you?”

She nods and lifts herself up until only the tip of me remains, then rushes to sit back down. The slap of skin on skin draws a groan from the back of my throat. Soon the entire room is filled with slaps and groans from the both of us as Kinsoo builds a rapid pace.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I grunt, spreading my fingers over the jiggling flesh of her buttocks. “Missed you riding my cock. Missed you moaning my name. Missed holding you. Promise me we’re never going this long without each other again.”

Her eyes flutter closed and her head tips backwards. Dainty beads of sweat pop out against her skin. “Taehyung…”

“Promise me.” I surge my hips upwards to meet her descent, and she hiccups on a yelp at the force on her g-spot.

“I promise,” she whimpers. “Never again.”

I wrap an arm around her waist and flip her over so she is lying beneath me. I readjust my hips between hers and press deeply. Her mouth falls open in a silent moan, and mine does likewise to mimic her. I pump against her sweetest of spots in a slow rhythm.

“Do you still remember the first time we had sex?” I ask her quietly. “We were just like this. Your hair was fanned across the pillow, just like it is now.” I finger the damp, dark strands idly.

She smiles warmly at me. “Of course I remember.”

“God, you were gorgeous,” I go on. “I couldn’t believe I was inside you. You’re even more gorgeous now, and I  _still_  can hardly believe I’m inside you. It feels right, though. It  _is_  right. Don’t ever push me away again, Kinsoo.”

Her eyes soften. She sniffs and nods, then reaches up and wipes a tear from my face that I didn’t even notice was there.

“I love you so much, Taehyung. And  _only_  you, from now on. I swear it.”

“Kiki…”

She pulls my head down to fit into the crook of her neck. “Faster, Tae...”

I pump faster. My cock glides smoothly through her velvet walls, in and out, back and forth.

“Harder, Tae...”

I push harder. My cockhead batters her g-spot repeatedly, relentlessly. Kinsoo hooks her legs over my hips and digs her heels into the small of my back. I wind my fingers down to where our bodies are conjoined to rub at the bud between her legs.

“Come with me, Kiki,” I pant against her collarbone. “Please, I’m so close...”

“Me too. Keep going, just like that. Don’t stop, please...”

My fingers work faster on her slick clit. Her limbs and her sex both squeeze tighter to help finish me off, but she gets there a half second first. A few more heaves and she comes around me, wet and tight. My release jets forcefully from my cock to add to her warmth, and a different, unexpected sort of release occurs as well.

My twin holds my shuddering body as I cry softly into her chest.

 

* * *

 

I rejoin Kinsoo in the living room and see that she has changed into a fresh pair of panties and one of my old t-shirts. She is as beautiful as she was earlier today in her dress and sunhat.

“I brought dinner,” I announce.

She raises an eyebrow in amusement at the containers in my hands. “Ice cream?”

“Well, since the power is still out, it might melt if we don’t eat it. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Look, I have your  _favorite_.” I sing the last word and shake the pint of strawberry at her to coax her into taking it.

She giggles and shakes her head but takes it anyway. I pass her a spoon and we sit together on the couch. We eat the first several frozen, sugary bites in content silence. From outside the windows, I can make out a faint rainbow in the distance as the day’s last sunlight stretches out from behind the passing storm clouds and hits the atmosphere just so. A pretty end to a terrible day.

“Listen, Kiki,” I say after a while, licking cream from my upper lip. “About Jungkook…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she interjects softly.

“I do, though. The guy  _died in your arms_. You loved him, and he loved you.”

Kinsoo shrugs. “It was never going to work.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. You can talk to me. You  _should_. Whatever you need to say, I’m here to listen.”

The next stretch of silence lasts much longer, and I assume she is still not ready to talk.

“He wanted to have a family with me,” she finally mutters sullenly. I wonder if she forgot that she has already told me that.

I nod. “Of course he did.”

“He would have been a good father.”

I swallow a spoonful of mint and chocolate. “Yes, I’m sure he would have. He was hard-working. Attentive. Kind.”

“Do you think I would have been a good mother?”

I look over and try to meet her eyes, but she keeps them on her lap as she licks her spoon and coats her tongue a different shade of pink.

“Of course you would have been a good mother, sis,” I assure her. “You’re all those things, too. And fierce. And protective.”

Kinsoo starts sobbing again, this time very softly. I set my dessert-dinner aside and reach over to do the same with hers, then kneel on the carpet in front of her.

“Hey. We’re going to get revenge on the people responsible for Jungkook’s death and the deaths of all our agents, Kinsoo. They  _won’t_  get away with this.” I reach up and take her cheeks in my hands so that her eyes are forced to see the sincerity on my face.

She places her fingers over mine and presses them tighter against her. “No, they sure won’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

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